


Sherlolly Drabbles

by TheresaWritesStuff



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2018-12-09 09:58:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 23,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11666817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheresaWritesStuff/pseuds/TheresaWritesStuff
Summary: A collection of Sherlolly Drabbles from Tumblr! Enjoy! Feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments :)





	1. Come over here and make me!

**Author's Note:**

> Just a collection of silly Tumblr drabbles written just for fun. Thank you to SimplyShelbs16 for a majority of the prompts!  
> Un-beta'd. All mistakes are mine. I may go through and edit at some point...but for now we are going with the "straight from tumblr" versions.  
> With regards to copyrights on these characters, etc, etc, I own nothing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is bad at sharing.

Sherlock strolled into the lab, still riding the high of adrenaline from having finally obtained the samples he needed to solve the case he was working, only to see Molly using his preferred microscope…

“Scoot over Molly. I need that microscope to prove our murderer indeed  _was_  the mime’s scorned lover.”

“I’m in the middle of something, Sherlock. Use one of the other microscopes,” Molly replied, not looking up from her slide.

“Yes, I know. Talk about ‘communication issues’…what? What do you mean use one of the other microscopes? I always use  _that_  one,” Sherlock retorted.  _Rude. She knew he preferred that one microscope to all the rest. He’d finally gotten the settings just how he liked them._

“Well I’m using it now. So you’ll just have to pick another one or wait your turn,” Molly huffed. 

“But this is for work!” Sherlock argued.

“Well, so is mine. My statement still stands,” she shot back.

_Why was she being so difficult today?_

“Alright, very funny. Did John put you up to this? He would…Just move over. This will only take a second.” Sherlock shot her a smile, attempting a friendlier tone.

“I’m really not in the mood  to play games today, Sherlock.” Molly sighed, aggravated. 

“Just move, Molly!” Sherlock gritted his teeth.

“Come over here and make me!” She glared at him across the table, daring him to try.

“Fine…” 

He strolled over to where she sat and wrapped his arms around her waist, attempting to lift her off of her stool. Molly gripped the table tightly, bracing herself to her seat. She was stronger than she looked. He attempted to reach around her and exchange her slide for his, but she held him off. 

After a few minutes of this ridiculous display, Sherlock managed to at least turn Molly around so that she faced him, glaring defiantly up at him as he loomed over her; the two of them both maintaining a vice grip on the table, refusing to move. 

They paused for a moment, panting from exertion. There was a fire in Molly’s big brown eyes as she held his gaze, standing her ground. 

Sherlock smirked.  _He’d have to remember to pick fights like this with her more often._

He released his grip on the table, snaking a hand inside her lab coat and around her waist, drawing her in closer to him as he kissed her deeply. He finally felt her relax in his arms, her hands leaving the table to roam his hair. He lifted her gently to her feet as she returned the kiss, twining her fingers in his curls. He smiled against her lips as he sat in her now vacated seat. 

“I win,” he chuckled quietly.

“Not. Fair.” Molly gasped, tugging his curls a little as he smirked at her. 

“All is fair in love and microscopes, Molly,” Sherlock replied playfully as he removed her slide for his. “I’ll make it up to you with dinner tonight. How’s that?”

“Oh alright.” Molly laughed. “Pick something up from that nice Thai food place near Scotland Yard.”

Sherlock glanced at his slide and texted his findings to Lestrade. The make up was laced with poison, just as he suspected. 

“See you at home?” he asked cheerfully, replacing Molly’s slide and placing a kiss on her cheek. 

“Yeah. See you at home.” Molly chuckled. 


	2. That’s almost exactly the opposite of what I meant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly runs into Tom while shopping with Sherlock and Rosie. It's awkward.

“Sherlock I know for a fact you have ginger nuts at home already,” Molly sighed, looking over the apples on display. 

“No, I don’t think I do…certainly can’t hurt to get a few more…” Sherlock replied, eyeing the large bag of baked goods on the shelf.

“This is why Rosie and I don’t take you shopping with us,” she teased.

Sherlock smiled, leaning over to play with his goddaughter’s tiny bootied feet. “What do you think, Rosie? Should Aunt Molly let Uncle Sherlock get some biscuits?”

Rosie giggled happily.

“See? Rosie agrees with me.” He grinned.

“It’s amazing you stay so fit the way you eat sometimes…”Molly muttered under her breath.

“Thanks for noticing. I do enjoy a good cardio…running about London, solving crime and the like,” he replied with a wink. “That and John keeps eating all my ginger nuts. He’s getting a bit pudgy, too.  Isn’t that right Rosie? Isn’t daddy getting pudgy?”

“Don’t fat shame the girl’s father, Sherlock. It’s bad enough when you do it to Mycroft.” Molly smacked his arm playfully.

“Don’t even get me started on Mycroft…It’s a wonder, I don’t hide the tin outright…”Sherlock grumbled.

Molly smiled and rolled her eyes, looking over the produce some more. She glanced over to see a familiar figure standing a few stalls down. 

“Crap!” She whispered, turning around quickly.

“What? What is it?” Sherlock asked, confused.

“It’s Tom…” Molly replied, jerking her head in his direction. “I haven’t seen him since we broke off the engagement. I’m not ready to face him yet. Hide me!”

Sherlock complied by stepping close to her and wrapping his coat around her, effectively covering her torso, but making them a thousand times more conspicuous.

“Sherlock! What are you doing? That’s almost exactly the  _opposite_  of what I meant.” Molly squeaked into his chest. “Let me go. He’s going to see us…”

Sherlock smirked down at her but kept her wrapped in his coat. “You’re the one making a fuss! Just calm down. I’m sure he’s not even–”

“Molly?”

Molly groaned and rested her head against Sherlock’s chest in defeat.

“Hi Tom,” she greeted cheerily, putting on a fake smile as she pushed her way out of Sherlock’s coat. “Funny running into you here…Sherlock was just lending me his coat for a moment. It’s a bit chillier than I thought it would be…”

Sherlock wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her arms as if to warm her. 

“I told you to bring a jacket,” he reminded her warmly, pressing his cheek to hers flirtatiously. 

Molly smiled to keep up appearances, quietly stomping on his foot to tell him to knock it off. “Nice day for a farmer’s market though…”

“Sure is,” Tom replied, his eyes flicking to Sherlock and then to Rosie’s stroller.

“Um, You remember the Watsons…This is Rosie. We were just taking her out for the afternoon.”

“A little goddaughter, godparents bonding time,”Sherlock added.

Molly smiled at Sherlock, promising to kill him with her eyes. Sherlock did his best to contain a chuckle.

“Right…well I won’t keep you. Just wanted to say hello. Good to see you Molly…Sherlock…” Tom smiled awkwardly with a little wave and walked off.

“Nice seeing you too,” Molly replied.

“Bye,” Sherlock bid cheerily, sounding a little too triumphant. 

The two of them kept their fake smiles on until Tom was out of view.

“What was  _that_?!” she hissed at Sherlock, completely mortified at what just transpired.

“You said to hide you…so…” Sherlock trailed off as Molly raised an eyebrow at him, crossing her arms. “I panicked, okay? It would have worked if you’d kept your voice down…sorry… After he caught us like that I thought it would be better to pretend we were…together rather than for you to have to admit you were hiding from him…Better for him to think you’re over the break up…”

“I am over the break up…” Molly sighed, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “I…just didn’t want to face him yet because I thought it might be awkward…Which it was…You know we broke it off because he thought something was going on between  _us_ , right?”

“I didn’t know…” Sherlock apologized. Molly couldn’t help but notice the faint smile he was trying so very hard to hide.

“It’s alright…Better to get it over with I suppose. I’m…glad you were here. I’m not sure what I would have said if it were just me…”

Sherlock smiled softly at her.

“Here.” Molly handed him the bag of ginger nuts he’d been eyeing. “Just…don’t ever do that again.”

Sherlock smirked, digging in as Molly paid for the biscuits. “You have any other ex-fiancés I should know about?”

Molly managed a laugh and shook her head. “You know what? I  _am_  a bit chilly after all…” she replied, holding out her hand.

Sherlock chuckled. “Touché Hooper,” he replied, removing his Belstaff and handed it to her. 

She smiled victoriously, turning up the collar and rolling up the sleeves to fit her shorter arms. “Much better…Now. I believe next on our list was parsnips…”

She handed him her shopping bag and continued down the line of vendors.

Rosie cooed from inside her stroller. Sherlock smiled and handed Rosie a ginger nut to gum.

“I agree. I think it looks much nicer on her, too…” he chuckled, pushing the stroller along to follow Molly.


	3. The best things happen while you're dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cinderella/Masquerade Ball AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if Renaissance Fairs are a thing in the U.K... but it was the only semi logical place I could think of for Meena's daughter to get a fancy mask from.

“Meena I don’t know about this…” Molly fidgeted on her friends couch as she listened to her bustling about in the other room. “I’ve got the graveyard shift that night. Maybe I should just forget it…”

“Oh no you don’t!”Meena called from somewhere deep in her bedroom closet. “You’re never going to meet anyone tucked away in that depressing, windowless cell you call a morgue. You’re going to that benefit and that. is. final. Now come over here and try this on.”

Molly groaned as she cast a dejected glance at the flyer for the annual hospital benefit gala on Meena’s coffee table before getting up to do as her friend requested. A masquerade ball…why couldn’t it have been something else? Something she could use her own wardrobe for?

“Meena that’s your wedding dress! I couldn’t possibly…” Molly protested as Meena held out the mass of flowing white tulle.

“Nonsense! When am I ever going to wear it again? Put it to good use. God knows I paid too much for it to just sit in my closet forever,” Meena replied, brushing off Molly’s protests as she shoved the gown in her hands.

“I can’t…it’s too much. Won’t your daughter want it someday? What if I get something on it…”Molly argued, though the soft fabric in her hands made it suddenly difficult.

Meena cocked an eyebrow at her, placing her hands on her hips. “April is 7 years old. She won’t be needing it for quite a while. If anything happens just get it dry-cleaned. You can send me the bill. Now put it on!”

Molly bit her lip as she stared down at the dress. It  _was_  gorgeous…

“I’m not letting you leave until you do,” Meena insisted.

Molly sighed, narrowing her eyes at Meena. “Fine…”

Meena grinned triumphantly at her as she retreated to the bathroom to try on the dress.

When Molly emerged, Meena covered her mouth with her hands, taking her in.

“Now you  _have_  to go to the ball Cinderella,” she smiled.

“I still need a mask,” Molly reminded her quietly.

“I have just the thing!” Meena slipped past her into April’s room and returned with a delicate white masquerade mask. “She saw it at the renaissance fair last month and just had to have it. I’m sure she won’t mind if you borrow it for an evening.”

Molly fingered the plumed edge of the mask before giving Meena a tentative smile. Meena took her hands in hers and let out a tiny excited squeal.

* * *

Molly tiptoed into the ballroom, observing the gala before her, already in full swing. Despite what she may have said to Meena, she wasn’t exactly keen on socializing with her new coworkers tonight. Not like this. She much preferred to get to know people over a round of drinks after work at the pub. Unfortunately for her, she’d been stuck mostly working the grave yard shift, and 8 am was not an ideal time to go out for a pint. Why did Meena have to be so insistent on her having a social life?

Molly’s fingers drifted nervously to the mask’s ribbons at the back of her head among the mass of curls, making sure it was secure as she looked about the room. She spied a pocket of nurses that she’d talked with in the canteen a handful of times and began making her way through the crowd to say hello.

Suddenly she felt a pair of strong arms sweep her around and onto the dance floor.

“Hey!” She protested, looking up at her new dance partner. She was too shocked to push him away.

“Shhh,” he shushed as he waltzed her about the dance floor, his eyes scanning the room from behind a feathered black mask.

“Excuse me?” she demanded, blinking up at him in surprise from behind her own.

“I said ‘shh,’” He repeated. “I’m looking for a suspect and I can’t focus with you yammering at me.”

“You’re the one who started dancing with me,” she argued.

“I needed to blend in. Easier to observe from here,” he explained. “My name is Sherlock Holmes. I’m a detective. I’ve tracked a suspected jewel thief to this event. I believe he is posing as one of the waiters.”

He glanced down at her with a charming smile before turning his eyes back to the crowd.

“Do you always dance with unsuspecting women to catch a criminal?” Molly asked, though she found she didn’t altogether mind dancing with him.

An amused smirk bloomed across his face. “Not as a rule,” he chuckled. “You appeared to be alone and a bit overwhelmed by the unfamiliar crowd. Bit of a daunting place to try and get to know your new coworker’s isn’t it? Thought you might need a bit of an ice breaker for the evening. Though now I realize it may have been rude of me to pull you into a dance without asking…”

Molly smiled. “It’s alright…I wasn’t looking forward to making small talk tonight anyway.”

“Awful, isn’t it?” Sherlock laughed.

“Dreadful,” Molly agreed, taking a moment to observe the man whose arms she had suddenly found herself in. He seemed perfectly at home in a tuxedo as he waltzed her effortlessly about the dance floor. His masquerade mask sat across sharp cheekbones, emphasizing his intelligent blue eyes. Molly had to steady herself as she contemplated how easily she could drown in them.

“So you’re with the police?” she asked, looking around the room. She wondered how many other undercover operatives were in the room tonight.

“Sort of. I’m a consulting detective,” he explained. “When Scotland Yard finds themselves at a loss, which they often do, they call me.”

“I see,” she replied.

“You’re new at Bart’s. I haven’t seen you around the lab,” he observed.

“Yes. I just started last month. My name is—“

“That’s him!” Sherlock interrupted, twirling her out from him to go after the unsuspecting cocktail waiter.

He tapped the waiter on the shoulder confidently, only for Molly to see his shoulders sag slightly before taking two champagne flutes from the waiter, returning to her.

“Wrong one. I think our thief may have snuck into the kitchen,” Sherlock pouted, handing her a glass.

“Do you want to go in after him?” Molly asked, accepting the drink.

“Not yet. He isn’t aware I’m here as far as I can tell. Wouldn’t want to tip him off just yet by barging in.” Sherlock took a sip of champagne and crinkled his nose in distaste, setting it on the table beside them.

“Right.” Molly nodded. “Well…I’m free for a few more dances if you want to observe from the dance floor some more. He probably just went in to refill his tray,”

Sherlock looked about the room, considering his options. “Hmm. Yes, that sounds likely. I wouldn’t want to impose on your evening…”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind,” Molly reassured him, setting down her own glass. Tracking down a jewel thief sounded much more entertaining than listening to golf outing stories from nearly retired doctors all night long.

“In that case…” he smiled and offered her his hand to lead her back on to the dance floor.

Molly could feel herself blush as he smiled at her and was suddenly very grateful for her borrowed mask.

They swayed gently to the sounds of the string quartet as they played old crooner ballads.

“So what should I be looking for?” Molly asked quietly, wanting to be helpful.

“Similar build and hairstyle to the waiter I stopped earlier. Our perp has more of a hooked nose though. And a mustache,” Sherlock supplied.

“Got it.” Molly nodded, letting her eyes roam the crowd.

She found she was rather comfortable dancing with Sherlock Holmes. There was a sort of effortlessness between the two of them. Perhaps if things didn’t work out in pathology, she could have detective work as a backup plan.

“You know this song?” Sherlock asked, drawing her out of her train of thought.

“Hmm?” She looked up at him, confused.

“You were humming along. It seemed like you knew the tune,” he explained.

“Was I?” Molly blushed as she listened to the song more intently, immediately recognizing it.

“How does it go? I’m not familiar with it,” Sherlock prompted curiously.

“ _The best things, happen while you’re dancing. Things that you would not do at home come naturally on the floor…_ ”Molly sang quietly for him. “It’s from White Christmas. I watch it every year after I put up my tree.”

“Hm. Lovely notion behind the lyrics,” he replied, mulling it over. “A bit of an odd music choice for a masquerade, though, don’t you think?”

“I suppose,” Molly laughed. “I think they gave the quartet free reign on the music selection.”

“Well that’s a bit lazy. If you’re going to have a theme, why not commit to it? What are half of these masks even supposed to be?” Sherlock gestured to a group of very unimpressively costumed guests nearby.

“Honestly I think the theme was mostly picked so a few women on the committee could have their ‘Phantom of the Opera’ fantasies fulfilled.” Molly smirked.

Sherlock stifled a laugh. “I think you might be onto something.”

“Ooh! I think that’s him,” Molly whispered, gesturing to a waiter making his way out to the hall.

Sherlock grinned excitedly and quickly pursued the man, pulling Molly along beside him by the hand. Molly did her best not to giggle as they ran through the crowd and down the hall after their suspect.

“Excuse me,” Sherlock said as they caught up to the waiter in the hallway, confidently catching the man by the shoulder causing him to turn in surprise.

“Oui, monsieur?” The waiter asked. He indeed had a mustache, but his nose was far too delicate to match Sherlock’s description.

Sherlock swallowed a sigh of disappointment as he looked the man over.

“Sorry about that. My date is starving.” Sherlock smiled, grabbing a few mini quiches from the man’s tray.

“Of course, monsieur,” the waiter replied, nodding politely to Molly before walking away.

Sherlock turned to her and handed her a mini quiche.

“Wrong one?” she asked.

Sherlock nodded. “Closer this time. But still not him.”

“Sorry,” Molly apologized, adjusting her mask. “It’s a bit hard to see in this thing.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sherlock assured her.

He stepped towards her, lifting a hand to her cheek, helping her to adjust the mask.

“Better?” he asked, his hand lingering at her cheekbone.

“Much better. Thank you,” Molly replied, looking down shyly.

“Of course,” he replied, stepping back and clearing his throat a touch.

“So…what’s your mask supposed to be?” Molly asked as they strolled down the empty hall. She carefully took a bite of the mini quiche he had handed her, trying to keep from getting crumbs on the flowing borrowed gown.

“I believe my file said it was a crow,” Sherlock reflected.

“A fine choice…You hear about the ordinance the city passed banning crows from gathering?” she asked casually.

“No?” he responded curiously, drawing out the syllable.

“Oh it was a big problem,” she replied nonchalantly. “Every time a group of them got together there was a  _murder_ …”

Sherlock stopped in his tracks, processing what she said.

“Puns? Really?” he chuckled, a wide grin betraying his amusement.

Molly shrugged innocently, smiling as he laughed with her. She liked his laugh.

“What about you? What are you supposed to be? A swan perhaps?” he asked, looking her over as he bit into his own quiche.

“Oh I don’t really know. I just borrowed this from a friend,” Molly admitted, looking out the window to the lit patio. “Maybe a dove?”

“Or an angel,” Sherlock mused quietly.

Molly looked up and met his eyes in surprise. He held her gaze for a moment before clearing his throat shyly, looking out at the patio with her.

He noticed another member of the wait staff fitting the suspect’s description ducking behind the lit gazebo.

“Come on.” He gestured to the door and took her hand, leading her outside.

“Alright, it’s been fun but the jig is up!” he declared, rounding the gazebo.

Standing among the twinkle lights was a surprised woman with a short pixie cut apparently sneaking a smoke, a cigarette lighter halfway to her lips.

Sherlock ran a hand through his curls in frustration before smiling gently at the young waitress.

“You know these are really bad for you. Ever tried the patch? Worked wonders for me.”

The waitress sighed a bit and handed him her lighter with a halfhearted “thanks…” before walking off, leaving the two of them alone on the patio.

Sherlock sighed. “I think I might be off my game.”

Molly bit back a chuckle. “Oh I don’t know… those shoulder pads were very convincing.”

She climbed the steps to the gazebo, indulging herself in a little twirl, causing her skirt to float around her.

Sherlock joined her, removing his mask. “You’re too kind,” he replied, rubbing at the slightly red indent on the bridge of his nose where his mask had sat.  

He smiled softly as he watched her twirl about absently amid the soft lighting, taking in the fresh night air.

“Would you care for another dance?” he asked.

Molly smiled, her heart fluttering under his unmasked gaze. “Sure, um, if you want… I’d like that.”

She pulled out her mobile and quickly scrolled through her music, hitting play and placing it on the bench beside them. An instrumental overture began to play.

“It’s not quite classical, but you might like it better than what they’re playing inside…” she explained quietly, keeping her eyes down as his arms wound about her.

“I actually know this one,” he declared proudly. “Rogers and Hammerstein, right?”

Molly looked up at him, blinking in surprise.

“My parents love the theater,” he explained. “Usually my brother and I flip a coin for who has to take them, but they managed to drag us both along for Cinderella somehow… Mycroft of course put up a gruff front about it but I’m fairly certain he enjoyed it the most out of all of us. You should have heard him humming as he went about his work the whole week after the show. He seemed especially fond of a rendition by Bernadette Peters he found online. It really was something!” 

He chuckled as Molly smiled at his enthusiasm. “Though I suppose you’d have to know my brother to fully appreciate it.”

“Perhaps one day I’ll be lucky enough to see it for myself,” she laughed.

“Perhaps…” he agreed softly.

They danced on as one track flowed into the next. Slowly, Molly felt herself drifting closer to him, easing into the comfort of his arms. She let her cheek rest gently against his chest as they danced along to Cinderella’s waltz, his arms wrapping her a little tighter to himself as the music played. She let out a small, content sigh as prince’s ponderings of love drifted through the air. The night seemed to be playing a similar tune on her own heart.

Wordlessly, Sherlock reached down and gently lifted her chin, bringing her gaze to meet his. Maybe it was the music, but there was something in Sherlock’s eyes that made Molly wonder if he possibly felt the same. She closed her eyes as his hand came to rest on her cheek, instinctively leaning into his palm. She held her breath as she felt his thumb trace along the edge of her mask, gently lifting up at the corner.

There was a sudden crash as a waiter attempted to maneuver a cart of dishes through the patio, running into a chair.

Sherlock and Molly looked up at the sound as the waiter cursed softly, grumbling as he tried to move the heavy cart, a strand of pearls tumbling to the ground as he struggled. This was their thief!

Sherlock quickly sprang into action, catching the waiter by the arm before he could make an escape.

The sound of Big Ben chiming the midnight hour rang through the air as Sherlock pinned the waiter to the cart.

Midnight.  _MIDNIGHT!_ Molly’s hands flew to her face. She had forgotten all about her shift at the hospital.

“I have to go,” Molly breathed, gathering her skirts to run.

“What? Right now?!” Sherlock asked, looking up at her from where he held his elbow to the waiter’s back as he pulled a pair of cuffs from his pocket.

“I’m sorry…I’m late for work,” Molly apologized, glancing back at him as she quickly made her way through the patio furniture.

“But I never even caught your name!” Sherlock called after her.

“It’s Molly!” She yelled over her shoulder as she ran down the hall.

“What?” Sherlock yelled back, not catching what she had said. But she was gone.

Sherlock sighed as he clicked the cuffs onto the waiter’s wrists.

“Tough luck, mate. She was hot,” the jewel thief commiserated.

“Shut up,” Sherlock huffed, clicking the cuffs a little tighter.

It was only when Lestrade and his team showed up that Sherlock noticed there was still music playing from her forgotten phone.

* * *

Molly leaned her head against her arms tiredly as she waited for the DI to bring in the homicide victim for autopsy. It had been days since the gala. Days without her phone. Days of sleepless nights thinking about the dreamy consulting detective…

She’d gone back to the gala venue after work that following morning after she realized her phone was missing. The front desk told her nothing had been turned in but they’d keep an eye out. Molly had resigned herself to the fact that it was probably long gone by now. At least she’d managed to get Meena’s dress back to her in one piece…

Detective Inspector Lestrade strolled into the morgue with the body bag on a gurney, a few men in tow.

“Morning Miss Hooper,” the Inspector greeted. “Nothing like a fresh Homicide to start the day, huh?”

“Sure.” Molly smiled tiredly. “Just place the body on the table there and I’ll get starte—”

She looked up to see the curly haired detective standing behind Lestrade in a sweeping Belstaff coat and blue scarf.

“You…” he breathed as his eyes met hers in recognition.

They stood there staring at each other a moment, eyes locked silently.

“You two know each other?” Lestrade asked, waving a finger between them.

“Sort of…”

“Not exactly…”

“It was one night…”

They both attempted to explain, stumbling over each other.

“Riiiight…” Lestrade replied warily. “I’ll just be outside then.” He jerked his thumb at the door over his shoulder and quickly made his exit, wanting to avoid being in the middle of…whatever that was.

“Um…I have your phone,” Sherlock said after a moment, fumbling awkwardly for it in his pocket before handing it to her. “I tried to find you to return it…”

“It’s alright.” Molly smiled, taking the phone. “Didn’t give you much to go on I suppose…Molly Hooper by the way.” She extended a hand for him to shake.

“Molly… _that’s_  what you said. It’s um, lovely to meet you…officially…”

“Likewise…Hey Sherlock.” Molly smiled down at her shoes shyly before looking up at him. “Would you…like to get a coffee sometime?”

“I was thinking dinner, possibly…” Sherlock replied.

“Dinner…” she repeated with a smile.

“And then, maybe dancing?” he added, stepping toward her.

“I’d like that.” Molly pressed her lips together as she met his eyes.

“Good.” Sherlock cleared his throat. “So um…I’ll call you?” He gestured to the phone in her hands with a shy smile.

“That’d be great,” Molly chuckled.

“Great…” Sherlock nodded, rocking back on his heels, looking her over. She looked so different in a lab coat and jumper, and yet exactly the same. “Right… well… I’ll call you.”

Molly smiled and turned to her work with a nod.  He smiled headed for the door but stopped short.

“Oh and Molly?” he added, striding back across the floor to stand beside her.

“Yeah?” she asked. She looked up with a smile. He quickly took her face in his hands, drawing her to her feet as he brought his lips to hers.

“No masks this time?” he replied, resting his forehead on hers, his eyes gazing at her face admiringly.

Molly swallowed and tried to find her breath to speak. She only managed a nod instead, her heart pounding in her ears.

“Wonderful.” He smiled, stepping away and placing a kiss to the back of her hand. “I’ll call you later, Molly Hooper.”

And with that he walked out of the morgue, leaving her blinking speechlessly over a body bag, a stunned smile on her lips.

Sherlock strolled out of the morgue happily, a spring in his step as he hummed to himself.

“What’s got you so cheery?” Lestrade asked suspiciously.

“Oh nothing Gavin,” Sherlock chuckled. “The best things happen while you dance. That’s all…”

* * *

 

_(Links to the dance music here if you want…The best things happen while you’re dancing[X](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutu.be%2F5fwuzeze0nw&t=MWVkYWQwZDNmM2MyZTM4YmI2ZTAyM2ZjMDg0OWIzODg5OGFkZjk3YixVNnZoc05xeA%3D%3D&b=t%3AeDB-_LBr1obpRhPU0NicaQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Ftheresadunn.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F162017471777%2Fsherlolly-34-think-a-cinderella-story-if&m=1), Songs from Cinderella [X](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutu.be%2FPbnFOS-lI1U&t=OGI4MTRjNzUyZTFkOWNiYTNjOGI4YmVjZDk4MjVlNjk3YmVhNWRjYyxVNnZoc05xeA%3D%3D&b=t%3AeDB-_LBr1obpRhPU0NicaQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Ftheresadunn.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F162017471777%2Fsherlolly-34-think-a-cinderella-story-if&m=1), [X](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutu.be%2FeqapDK1ffzM&t=MzE4OTAyNGM3ZDkyMjMwNjAzZjhmYzViNmViYjU0MmY2OTk5NWRlYyxVNnZoc05xeA%3D%3D&b=t%3AeDB-_LBr1obpRhPU0NicaQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Ftheresadunn.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F162017471777%2Fsherlolly-34-think-a-cinderella-story-if&m=1), Mycroft’s favorite [x](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutu.be%2FlqEclRcoZeo&t=OGVmY2E0YWIwMzA4NTVjODY1MmY4YjU5Y2FhYzNhYjI1NDQwOWFlMixVNnZoc05xeA%3D%3D&b=t%3AeDB-_LBr1obpRhPU0NicaQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Ftheresadunn.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F162017471777%2Fsherlolly-34-think-a-cinderella-story-if&m=1), Molly’s dress [x](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fs-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com%2F564x%2F7d%2Fdd%2F15%2F7ddd158e891d7d7b73813028ef938559.jpg&t=ZTNkZmIwYTU3MjIzOTk3ZDVhYmQ2ZjUzMGM0MmE0ZWE5Y2UyZTQ4MCxVNnZoc05xeA%3D%3D&b=t%3AeDB-_LBr1obpRhPU0NicaQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Ftheresadunn.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F162017471777%2Fsherlolly-34-think-a-cinderella-story-if&m=1)) Hope you enjoyed the story! It was fun to write. Thanks for the prompt!_


	4. Dead men eat no cereal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock uses Molly's flat as a bolt hole. Set during TEH

Molly groaned as she fished her keys out of her purse, her muscles aching from her double shift at the hospital. It had been a long day and she could not wait to get inside to treat herself to a warm bubble bath and a night of peace and quiet all to herself.

She clicked open her door, kicking her shoes off in her entry way, practically tossing her bag down on the table in exhaustion. To her surprise, Toby wasn’t winding around her feet in his usual greeting.  _Must be napping somewhere, the lazy little fluffball…_

Molly strolled to the kitchen, eager to make herself a cuppa. She pulled the elastic from her hair, tousling her locks loose from their confinement with a contented sigh. She reached to unclasp her bra, which had been digging into her all day…

“Hello,” a familiar baritone greeted, making her jump.

She turned to see Sherlock sitting on her couch, bowl of cereal in hand, Toby sprawled out asleep next to him.  _Just like old times…_

“Sherlock…don’t scare me like that,” she scolded, silently glad he had spoken up when he did.  _So much for her night to herself…_

He gave her an apologetic smile. 

“What are you even doing here?” she asked, continuing on into her kitchen for that now desperately needed cup of tea.

“Problem?” he asked through bites of cereal. 

 _Yes._  “No. Just a bit surprised you’re not at Baker Street. Thought you’d be there getting settled since you’ve been…away for so long.”

Sherlock shrugged. “Mrs. Hudson’s still a bit upset with me. Needed somewhere a little more quiet.”

“Giving you that much trouble, is she?” Molly smiled to herself as she opened her cupboard.  _Good for her._

“Oh she’ll get over it,” Sherlock replied dismissively. “Do you have any ginger nuts? Mrs. Hudson only had boring things to eat at her flat.  _Bran_ …has everyone really gotten so  _dull_ while I was away?”

“Bran is good for you,” Molly chided, opening the fridge. There was only a splash of milk left in what had been a full jug that morning.  _So much for that…maybe there was some green tea in the cupboard…_ “You know a lot has happened since you’ve been gone. People got on with their lives.”

“Pssh, what lives? I’ve been away,” he joked. “Would you mind fixing me a cuppa while you’re in there?”

“Yeah, fine…” Molly replied, trying to ignore the headache that was forming at the base of her skull as she rummaged through her cupboard.

She paused a moment, noticing that the shelf that had been stocked with cereal before she left for work was now completely empty. “ _Really,_  Sherlock? If you’re going to eat me out of house and home, I’m footing you the grocery bill.”

“You’re angry…” Sherlock observed, sounding confused.

“No I’m just…You know what? Yes. I am angry! Who wouldn’t be angry? You ate all of my cereal and faked your death for three years! Do you know how worried I was when I stopped getting your postcards? I understood when Mycroft stopped giving me updates but you…” Molly huffed, smacking the cupboard shut. 

She turned around to see him standing beside her. She’d forgotten how fast he could be sometimes… He looked down at her softly, pressing his lips together as he thought about what to say. He looked confused and a little bit hurt by her words, though Molly didn’t want to admit that to herself. He pulled his wallet from his pocket, offering her a few quid. 

“I didn’t realize it would be an issue,” he said quietly.

Molly sighed as she felt her anger drain out of her. 

“It isn’t,” she replied, pushing his hand and the offered money gently aside. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I’ve just had a very  _long_  day and I…I guess I just wasn’t expecting you to be here. Not so soon at least. Of course you can help yourself to anything. Any time. I said before anything you needed and I meant it. Honestly, I’m just happy to see you eating something! You always starve yourself on a case and that can’t be good for…” her words trailed off as Sherlock wrapped his arms around her in a tentative hug. She let out a breath and hugged him back reassuringly, letting her head rest against his shoulder.

“I missed you too,” he replied hesitantly.

“That’s nice to know. Disappearing like that, making everyone believe that you were dead…It was more than a bit not good,” she rebuked though she couldn’t help but smile, allowing herself to enjoy the comfort of having him close enough to her that she knew he was  _really_  there.  _God he smelled good…_

“I was only gone for  _two_  years…” he mumbled.

Molly rolled her eyes at him, but hugged him a little tighter. “Felt a lot longer…”

Sherlock bit back a groan of pain as she wrapped her arms tighter about his rib cage. She released him immediately.

“Sorry…forgot,” she apologized, stepping back slightly. Mycroft had briefed her on the injuries Sherlock had sustained while he was undercover. Broken ribs, several fractures throughout his body, not to mention the bloody nose John had given him when he announced his return. Mycroft had tasked her with tracking Sherlock’s recovery and while she knew it she was the logical choice to look after him, she couldn’t help but feel a little touched that the elder Holmes had thought of her.

“It’s fine,” Sherlock laughed with a wince. “Are we…okay?”

Molly nodded “Yeah…yeah we’re okay, Sherlock. It’s just been a long time, you know? I guess it’s not as easy as I thought it would be…going right back to how things were before you left…”

“You were looking forward to a night alone,” Sherlock observed.

“It’s no big deal. Like I said, just a long day,” Molly replied, absently rubbing the back of her neck.

Sherlock smiled and held out his hand to her. “Come relax with me. I think there’s still a bowls worth of cereal in the box by the couch if you want some.”

“I’m good for right now, thanks. I just need to unwind for a bit,” she laughed.

Molly took his hand and let him lead her back to the couch. She noticed as she did that her ring finger was bare.  _Must have left it at work…again…_  She really needed to stop doing that. But deep down, she felt glad that she didn’t have her engagement ring on. He most likely already knew—not that it really mattered to him anyway—but she didn’t want to discuss her engagement with him right now. He always ended up saying such horrible things when he got caught up in his deductions and she honestly wasn’t in the mood to deal with that sort of thing. She’d tell him soon, of course. He was her friend. She should tell him…just not right now…

They spent the night trying to catch cereal pieces in their mouths until the box was empty; talking about what they’re friends had been up to, laughing at how ridiculous John’s new mustache was. He showed her pictures on his mobile of all the places he’d been, telling her of all the wild scenarios he’d found himself in while tracking down Moriarty’s remaining operatives. They laughed and talked about everything…and nothing. Eventually, they both fell asleep on the couch watching a marathon of old horror movies on the telly. To Molly’s surprise, he was there when she woke up the next morning, still sound asleep, all tangled up with her and Toby on the couch. He usually wasn’t, the times that he’d spent at her flat before…

It was a knock on her door that woke her. One of Mycroft’s agents stopping by to drop off a bag of groceries.


	5. Everything To Gain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg finds something unexpected in Sherlock's bin.

“Help yourself to a brew while you’re in there,” John called to Greg from the living room of 221b as he bounced Rosie on his knee.

“Yeah thanks,” Greg called back from the kitchen, helping himself to the cheese plate Mrs. Hudson had brought up for them to snack on while they watched the game and went over details of latest case. 

He braced himself as he stood in front of the fridge, summoning the courage to open the door. Luckily, there were no dismembered body parts present. Just a few take away containers, some left overs, and a few cold brews. Things you would find in a  _normal_  person’s fridge. Greg let out a sigh of relief.  _Thank God for Molly Hooper._

“Do we really have to have that on?” Sherlock groaned, flopping on the couch petulantly and waving a hand at the football game on the television.

“It’s the World Cup, Sherlock,” John chided. “Greg and I want to watch the match. Isn’t that right, Greg?”

“Yep!” Greg agreed from inside the kitchen.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned to tickle Rosie’s feet, eliciting a fit of giggles from his goddaughter.

“So how goes wedding planning?” John asked. “No napkin replicas of the Sydney Opera house this time?”

Sherlock chuckled. “No. Molly requested we keep things simple. I’m quite at ease about it. With your wedding there was a part of me that felt I was losing everything I’d grown to… that I’d grown fond of. With Molly…with Molly, I know I have everything to gain.”

“Awww Sherlock that’s really sweet. You’re gonna make me cry,” Greg smiled sweetly from the kitchen entry way, taking a swig of his beer.

John just patted Sherlock’s knee congenially. “Love you too, mate,” he replied gruffly. “I’m really happy for you.”

“Seriously, Sherlock. You should consider putting that in your vows,” Greg encouraged through a bite of cheese and cracker.

Sherlock cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the sentimental turn the conversation had taken. “Any updates on the case?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Let me check,” Greg replied, fishing his phone from his pocket as he tossed his bottle cap in the waste bin. It hit with a muted  _thunk._

“Hey Sherlock…” Greg dug something from the bottom of the bin. “Why’s there a pregnancy test in the trash?”

Sherlock’s head snapped up to look at the box in question that Greg held up.

“Oh good Lord…” John murmured, looking from the box to Sherlock. “You do remember that little talk we had…about using  _protection…_ you  _have_  been using protection, haven’t you?”

“Of course we have!” Sherlock shot back indignantly. “Mostly…”

“ _Mostly?_  Sherlock…” John scolded, trying to think of what he could still say in front of his infant daughter.

Sherlock pressed his lips together, staring at the floor in front of him, his hands clasped. His face was set in an expression John had come to recognize as his “buffering mode.”

“Really, Sherlock. You of all people should know better. I warned you.  _He_  warned you. Your freaking mum warned you!” Greg admonished, taking another swig from his drink.

“Have you and Molly…you know,  _talked_  about this sort of thing?” John asked gently.

Sherlock didn’t reply, still buffering.

The door to 221b clicked open as Molly strolled in, home from work.

“Hey everyone! How’s it—oh…”her voice trailed away as she saw the box in Greg’s hands. He awkwardly tossed it back in the bin as if it were suddenly searing hot.

“Sherlock, I meant to talk to you about that…you were out on a case when I took it and…”

Sherlock stirred from his buffering mode at the sound of her voice and got up to meet his fiancé. He took her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly, cutting off her words. He sunk to his knees in front of her, resting his head against her flat stomach.

“I’m going to be a father?” he breathed, looking up at her with a hesitant, joyful smile.

Molly held back a tear as she looked down at him.

“Yes. Yes you are,” she replied softly, stroking his hair.

A sigh of pure happiness escaped his lips he looked up at her, throwing his arms about her legs, setting her off balance.

“Sorry!” he laughed as she stumbled into him slightly. He stood and hugged her properly.

“I’m going to be a father,” he grinned, burying his face happily in her hair.

“Oh God, Sherlock Holmes is going to be a father…” Greg murmured to himself as the reality of a mini Sherlock set in.

His eyes met John’s across the room. John shared an equally wary nod but had to smile as he watched his best friend kiss his fiancé blissfully.

“Goaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaallllll!!!” the announcer on the screen shouted.

Rosie raised her hands in the air excitedly. “Muuurdaaah!” she giggled happily.

“What was that now?” John blinked at his daughter.

Sherlock held his breath nervously, breaking away from Molly to slowly tiptoe towards the door and make an escape, running when he reached the door.

“Sherlock!” John called angrily, chasing after him.

Molly laughed as she watched the two grown men run like children.

“So, you’ve got that to look forward to,” Greg laughed, taking a sip of his beer. “Congratulations by the way.”


	6. Takeaway On The Floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly brings over some takeaway. The kitchen of 221B is, as usual, an absolute mess.

“Sherlock?” Molly called as she let herself into 221b. “I brought those toes you asked for…and some takeaway in case you’re hungry.”

She strolled into the kitchen to set down her bags only to find there was absolutely no available counter space to place them on. As usual, every inch of Sherlock’s kitchen counter was occupied by a half done experiment. As was the table…

“Molly,” Sherlock greeted with a yawn as he made his way into the kitchen in his pajamas and a severe case of bedhead. “I wasn’t expecting you until after your shift.”

“It is after my shift,” Molly replied, taking in his disheveled state. “It’s 6 o’clock…Did you sleep all day?”

“Maybe?” Sherlock tousled his curls sleepily. “Got back to Baker st. around 4 this morning. Who knew a circus monkey would be so hard to catch…”

“Did you offer them a banana?” Molly chuckled. 

“You sound like Lestrade…” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes, still groggy from sleep. “…Is that takeaway?”

“Yes!” Molly replied, realizing she was still holding a bag in each hand. “ I know how you are when you’re on a case. I thought you might be hungry.”

“Ravenous!” Sherlock’s eyes lit up as he took the bag from her. She smiled to herself, putting the cooler full of assorted toes in his fridge. 

She turned around to see Sherlock looking about the kitchen, now faced with the same predicament she had been in moment before. 

“Sorry about the mess…” He smiled sheepishly as he offered her the bag of takeaway. “Sort of abandoned things when I got the call from Lestrade about the case…I’ll clear us a space. Just let me move…no…maybe…hmm..” he looked about the kitchen, trying to determine what he could move without disrupting his experiment too much, giving her a flustered smile as he did so.

Molly shook her head, smiling at the funny man in his pajamas that she’d grown so fond of before her.

“We can worry about your mess later,” she offered, finding a seat on the floor and patting the tile next to her. It seemed like a safe enough spot as any in his kitchen to eat.

His eyes crinkled gratefully as he joined her on the floor, stretching out his legs in front of him.

“So tell me all about the case,” Molly prompted, handing him a container of lo mein and disposable chopsticks.

“It all started with the contortionist…” He grinned, digging in hungrily as he relayed his last few days for her.


	7. Things I Can't Have

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU where the events of series 3 go a little bit differently.

Sherlock yawned as he let himself into Molly’s flat, quietly navigating his way through the darkened familiar hallway. After several hours of chasing his perp across London, he could not wait to dissolve into the comfortable respite that was Molly’s mattress…

He was grateful that Molly hadn’t decided to redecorate in the two years he had been away. It wouldn’t do to have her find the world’s only consulting detective sprawled on the floor after tripping over a relocated footstool…  

Even if he did trip, she would probably be too concerned that he may have sprained something to let it diminish her view of him—Molly was wonderful that way—still… he wanted her to think well of him. She was one of the few who counted; her opinion, one of the select few he truly cared about. Perhaps the one he cared  _most_  about…He hadn’t realized just how much he would think about the lovely pathologist after “the fall.” How much he would miss the sound of her voice, or the way she smiled, or the distinct, warm hue of her eyes on a sunny day… There was no sense in lying to himself that he didn’t care for her. In his darkest hours, thoughts of her provided him a guiding light, his ray of hope…

Toby meowed a greeting as he wound his way around Sherlock’s ankles. They’d come to a certain level of amicable companionship over the years, the feline and the detective. Sherlock shushed him gently and made his way towards Molly’s room.

He stopped short as the sound of unfamiliar snores filtered into the hall from under her bedroom door.

The fiancé… he’d forgotten about the fiancé. Not forgotten exactly. More like hopefully wished away. _Of course he would be here…What was his name again? Something dull like Tyler…Teddy…_ It didn’t matter really what his name was…only that he was in what should be Sherlock’s place on Molly’s bed, right beside her.

But he’d given up his claim to that place when he left to dismantle Moriarty’s network across the globe. He hated to admit just how much he had sacrificed that day on the rooftop of Bart’s. His reputation. John’s trust. A chance for something more with his favorite pathologist…Who knew dying would be the least painful part of this whole mess?

He knew it was foolish to think things wouldn’t change while he was away. His friends had moved on with their lives. She’d moved on. Rightly so. He couldn’t have asked her to wait for him; to put her life on hold for a man that may or may not return and may or may not be able to give her what she needed. No…She deserved to be happy… But telling himself all of this didn’t help the sinking feeling in his chest as he stood outside her door.

“I guess it’s the couch for you and me, Toby,” Sherlock whispered as he willed himself to walk into the living room.

Toby trotted along behind him, curling up on the arm of the couch near Sherlock’s head as he laid down, his feet hanging well over the edge of the other arm. He sighed and focused on sorting his mind palace while the details of the case were still fresh, the low, soothing rumble of Toby’s purr in his ears.

* * *

“Why is Sherlock Holmes in your living room?” Tom asked, taking in the sight of the sleeping detective as he got up to make the morning coffee.

“Sherlock is here?” Molly replied casually from the other room. “Huh. Must have let himself in last night. Probably just had a case nearby and needed a place to crash.”

“Does he do that often?” Tom inquired quietly.

“Sure. I mean, he hasn’t since the whole Reichenbach fiasco what with the being ‘dead’ and all, but before that yeah, he’d drop in every so often,” Molly replied with a shrug as she joined him in the hall.

“Just how much was ‘every so often?’” Tom raised an eyebrow almost accusatorily.

“I dunno…couple times a week at most? It just depended on if his case work was closer to my flat than his. It was a long time ago,” Molly answered, brushing him off.

“A couple times a week?” Tom repeated. “Are you serious? You never told me you two were so close.”

“I suppose I didn’t ever think much of it. Sherlock just sort of started coming by more and more and made himself comfortable. You’re lucky he didn’t try to climb in bed with you last night,” Molly joked.

“You’re kidding…”

“Well…” Molly waved her hand back and forth in a “sort of” motion.

Tom blinked down at her, folding his arms across his chest. “He slept in your bed?” He fought to keep his voice quiet.

“Relax! Nothing ever happened. He needed the space. Helps him think…Oh come on, you’re not really upset about this are you?” Molly laughed.

“I dunno, Molls. I guess I’m just having a bit of a time processing that the man you were once head over heels for used to share your bed,” Tom shot back, running a hand through his hair agitatedly.

“It was a long time ago,” Molly retorted. She took a deep breath and placed her hand gently on his arm. “Nothing happened. He’s just a friend. That’s all we’ve ever been. Just friends. Alright?”

“Yeah…alright,” Tom conceded begrudgingly, kissing her forehead. “I suppose there’s no reason for me to be jealous. After all, I did put that ring on your finger.”

“Right.” Molly smiled, fighting back the twinge of guilt she felt forming in the pit of her stomach as she glanced over to the sleeping Sherlock on her couch. “No reason at all…”

* * *

 Sherlock stirred to the sound of coffee brewing.

“Morning,” Molly greeted. “Rough case last night?”

“Hardly a six. Though he did give us quite a time catching him,” Sherlock replied, sleepily tousling his curls as he sat up. She walked over to hand him a cup of coffee. He smiled at her in thanks. His fingers brushed hers as he took the mug from her hands. Their eyes met, transfixed for a moment by the accidental touch. Molly withdrew her hand and her gaze all too quickly to return to the kitchen.

He watched her admiringly from over the rim of the mug as he sipped the dark, steaming liquid. Black, two sugars. He smiled to himself. She still remembered how he took his coffee…

His smile fell as the fiancé entered the kitchen.

“Coffee, Tom?” Molly asked, sweetly.

_Tom! That was it…_

“Thanks, Sugarplum.” Tom grinned, hugging Molly affectionately about the shoulders as she poured.

 _Sugarplum?_ Sherlock grimaced at the pet name.  _Didn’t suit Molly at all._

“Hey Sherlock.” Tom nodded a greeting, lifting a mug in a sort of toasting motion. “How goes things in the detective biz?”

“Fine…?” Sherlock replied, not sure of how best to navigate small talk this early in the morning.

“Good…”

The two men sipped their coffee in awkward silence.

“Well I’m off,” Molly announced, travel mug in hand.

Sherlock felt a knife in his heart as he watched her kiss Tom’s cheek.

“Leaving so soon?” Tom asked, nervous at the prospect of being left to talk with Sherlock alone. Not that Sherlock was keen about the arrangement either.

“I’ve got the early shift,” Molly explained, grabbing her purse. “You boys go ahead and make yourselves comfortable. I’ll see you later tonight. Good seeing you, Sherlock.”

She was out the door before either man could protest.

The two men smiled awkwardly across the room at each other, sipping their coffee in silence. Toby flopped lazily across Sherlock’s lap.

“How’d you manage that?” Tom asked, breaking the silence.

“I beg your pardon?” Sherlock replied, confused.

“That.” Tom pointed to Toby. “The cat likes you. I didn’t think he liked anyone besides Molly. Little beast hates my guts.”

“No…really?” Sherlock started, trying his best to sound sympathetic. Why he was still there making pleasantries with this cheap imitation of himself escaped him, yet here he was…trapped by social niceties and a cuddly cat.

“Molly thinks it’s just the smell of my dog on me that he doesn’t like,” Tom stated, taking another awkward slurp of coffee.  _Why did he drink so loudly? How could Molly stand it?_

“I’m sure that’s it…” Sherlock attempted to sound pleasant, letting the conversation end quickly. He gently removing Toby from his lap to stand. “Well as nice as this has been, I’d better get back to Baker Street. Do thank Molly for her hospitality for me…Tom.”

“Yeah, sure thing mate,” Tom replied.

Sherlock forced a tight lipped smile and got himself out the door as quickly as he possibly could.

* * *

It was a slow day at the morgue. Molly was both grateful for the quiet and resentful of the lack of distractions. Seeing Sherlock in her flat again had stirred up so many feelings that she’d thought she had let go of. 

It felt natural for him to be there somehow. They’d developed an easiness around each other, working together so often over the years. A comfortable sort of rhythm they seemed to naturally fall into.

She couldn’t help but smile as she remembered the day they’d spent solving cases together. She still wondered how much of that day was about him missing John and how much of it was about…well she still wasn’t quite sure what exactly that day had been about. But she knew something about it, about being around Sherlock always felt right somehow. No matter how strange the situation, it always felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be when she was with him…

Things were never quite that easy with Tom… Not that things were difficult with Tom. They just didn’t feel the same. Going to the pub with friends, walking his dog, Gracie in the park, it was all…fine. But it never felt quite as natural as she thought it should…

Molly sighed and placed her head on her desk. There was no reason for her to feel this way. Tom was a nice, normal guy. Someone she could spend a nice, normal life with. And that’s what she wanted… then why did it feel like her engagement ring was taunting her?

* * *

After that uncomfortable morning in Molly’s flat, Sherlock decided it was best to limit his interactions with her. Case related business only. No more using her bedroom as a bolt hole. No more having her bring by spare body parts for him to experiment on in his free time. Seeing her, knowing he’d squandered his chances with her…it was all just a little too hard to bare.

And yet  _not_ seeing her made him just as miserable. He missed her morbid sense of humor, and the looks she gave him when he was being clever. He even missed the look she gave him when he was being rude… He missed her intellect, her insight. How he wished he could get her opinions on some of his non-corpse related cases or joke with her about some of the details he had discovered about John’s extended family. Maybe that’s why when it came time to plan John’s stag night, the first place he thought of to go to for advice was not Scotland Yard, or Mrs. Hudson’s flat, but the lab at Bart’s…

He just needed her scientific insight. After all, this was like a case in a way, so his new rule still applied. Just a quick pop by the lab. For science…

* * *

 Molly stared down at her phone bewilderment for a moment before answering.

“Hey, Sherlock. How’s the stag night going?”

“MOLLY!!! Helllooo Molly!” Sherlock slurred from the other end.

“Hi Sherlock…Everything alright? It sounds like our calculations may have been off…” Molly smiled.

“Mooolllly I have somefing very importantto ash you…Whitney Houston!” Sherlock replied emphatically.

“What about Whitney Houston?” Molly asked, biting back a laugh.

“She sings so nicely! No nice…Haf you heard this song?! I LOVE THIS SONG!”

Molly listened as Sherlock fumbled with his phone, the muffled sound of ‘I will always love you’ playing and what sounded like someone drunkenly…singing?…along with the song.

“Is that John singing?” Molly laughed.

“Yeah! Whitney’s atthe baaarr. She’s singing to John because he’s gettin’ married. Isn’t that nice of her?! There’s all these reeeeaally tall ladies here, Molly. Their makeupsssa bit heavy for my tashte but WHO AM I TO JUDGE!? oOOOoooh John’s onsshtage! Hang on. I’ll send you a picture…”

Molly listened as Sherlock struggled with his phone, the distorted din of the bar against the varied scrapes and scuffles of his movements. A moment later a picture came in her text messages. Sherlock’s excited, dilated eyes and forehead could be seen in the frame, with John and a towering “Whitney Houston” singing on a brightly lit stage.

Molly could hardly hold herself together. “Sherlock…I think those are drag queens. You’re at a drag bar.”

“Noooooo…the queen is much shorter. Annshe always has that hat that she wearsss…Molly do I have nice cheek bones? These nice ladiessay I have nice cheek bones.”

“Yes Sherlock. Your cheekbones are very nice,” Molly smiled.

“Molllly…do you know this song? It makes me think of you…” Sherlock hummed before singing directly into the phone. “Iiii hope liffee treatssyou kind and I hooooope you have all you dreamed offfff… AND I WISH YOU JOYYY AAND HAPPINESS…Molly aare you happy? Pleassse tell me you’re happy.”

This question took Molly aback. “Y-yeah Sherlock. I’m happy…”

“Thass good. I wannyou…I want you to be happy Mollly…You make me want things Molly…You make me want things I can’t have…”

“Sherlock…what do you mean by that? What things can’t you—“

“Issthat Molly?” John’s voice came through the receiver. “HHIIII MOLLLLY!!! Iss Marrry withyou? TELL MARY I LOVE HER!!!”

“John, it’s only 7:30. Mary isn’t going to get here for our movie night for another half hour.”

“Still..tellher I love her! I LOVE HER SO MUCH MOLLY. I LOVER SOOO MUCH!! EVERYBODY!!!! I’M GETTING MAARRIEED!!!”

There was a chorus of cheers from somewhere in the bar.

“Sure John. I’ll tell her. Could you put Sherlock back on?”

“I guess. Hold on…OOooooh gotta go Molllyyy. The nice ladies just bought us a round of shots! And they’re on fire! BYE MOlllly!!!!” John giggled.

“John—“

There was a clattering sound and the call ended.

Molly stared in disbelief at her phone, trying to process the conversation she’d just had.

“Dang it John…” she sighed.

_It probably didn’t mean anything…just the booze talking…_

She smiled to herself as she looked at the picture he’d sent again, shaking her head as she forwarded it to Greg.

BETTER FINISH YOUR PAPER WORK QUICK. THEY’RE HAVING A BIT TOO MUCH FUN WITHOUT YOU - MH

BASTARDS… - GL

* * *

_“You make me want things I can’t have…”_

That blasted conversation kept creeping back into her mind, keeping her awake at night. Molly told herself that it didn’t mean anything. He was drunk. No one ever meant anything they said when they were drunk. Certainly not when they were  _that_  drunk… and yet his words kept replaying, over and over in her head…

Molly looked over guiltily at Tom, who lay fast asleep next to her. He was a good guy. Sweet. Considerate. Responsible… he was everything a girl could want in a fiancé…right? Then why wasn’t she happy…?

She knew why, and she hated herself for it. She was just letting herself get swept up in her old fantasies about Sherlock. It didn’t matter how handsome Sherlock might look in his Belstaff, or how much she loved the way her name sounded on his tongue…He’d never felt the same way about her. She knew she was kidding herself if she thought he ever could… And she was with Tom now. Nice, normal, ordinary Tom…There was no earthly reason why he couldn’t make her just as happy…probably even more so in reality. So what did it matter if Sherlock Holmes was back in her life? She had Tom. And she was determined to be happy. She just had to give up her silly fantasies about Sherlock and be realistic. Tom was great. They’d be happy together…She just had to commit herself to being happy with Tom. Sherlock or no Sherlock… That’s what she’d have to keep telling herself.

* * *

The fateful day arrived… The Warstan wedding, as everyone at Scotland Yard had taken to calling it. Now that the day was finally upon them, Sherlock couldn’t help but wish it were all over… But he’d made a promise to John and he wasn’t about to back out of it now. He’d smile and play the part as best he could. Even if it meant talking to boring distant Watson relations and seeing Molly looking radiant as a warm summers day, hanging on the arm of  _Tom…_  It appeared that Graham had found the bar. Oh how he envied him… A stiff drink was the next best thing to a proper case right now. And what were the odds of him getting a case at a wedding…

* * *

“That was some wedding, huh?” Tom laughed as they drove home.

“Mhm,” Molly hummed absently in agreement, staring out the window. “Leave it to John and Sherlock to hire a murderer for a wedding photographer…turned out alright in the end though.”

Molly twisted her hair ribbon in her hands, smiling as she remembered how Sherlock had played the waltz he’d composed for the happy couple. He looked so handsome in his tux. He always looked handsome…even the times he rolled into her flat covered in who knows what after chasing a suspect through the sewers… What she wouldn’t have given to have gone after him when he left the reception early. He looked so sad. Alone…She should have gone after him. Invited him to dance with the rest of them…She wished he’d gone after him…

“What?” Molly realized Tom had been talking to her.

“I said it’s a good reminder to check the reviews on a photographer for our wedding,” Tom repeated light heartedly.

Molly nodded and went back to watching the traffic around them.

“You alright Molls?” Tom asked. “You’ve been…I dunno,  _off_  lately…”

“Just a bit tired I guess…” Molly replied, idly twisting her ribbon around her fingers.

“Molly…This isn’t going to work out, is it?” Tom looked over at her with a sad smile.

“What do you—“

“You’re still in love with him. I might not be a consulting detective but I can tell that your heart isn’t in this anymore,” Tom replied gently.

Molly tried to form some sort of protest. She failed.

“Molly, you stabbed me with a fork during his speech,” Tom reminded her, rubbing his wrist as he kept his other hand on the wheel.

Molly smiled half-heartedly as she looked sheepishly into her lap. “I’m sorry Tom…I really wanted it to work between us. I truly did. But…”

“But I’m not Sherlock Holmes…”

Molly pressed her lips together and nodded. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

“I’m so sorry Tom…” She whispered.

“Me too Molls…But things haven’t been exactly right with us for a long time. I know they haven’t.”

Molly nodded. “How’d we even get here?”

Tom sighed, “I think it was just… neither one of us wanted to admit it wasn’t working so we just…kept pressing forward? Like if we just kept going somehow things would work itself out…”

“But they didn’t… It wasn’t that things were bad. They just…” Molly brought herself to look at Tom.

He gave her a melancholy smile and nodded understandingly. “Can I tell you something?”

Molly tilted her head curiously.

“I hate cats…” Tom laughed causing Molly to laugh as well. “It’s true, I’m sorry. I really tried to like Toby for your sake, I did…”

Molly smiled. “Well this never would have worked then…” she shook her head as she worked her ring off of her finger. “I suppose you’ll be wanting this back.”

“That’s probably for the best…Better that we figured this out now, I suppose…Easier in the long run.” Tom held out a hand for Molly to place the ring in his palm.

Molly nodded, doing her best not to cry. She really did love Tom at one point. He’d gotten her through a rough time in her life and for that she’d always be grateful… But it wasn’t enough to save what they’d had. Still…part of her was still sad to let him go.

“He loves you too, you know,” Tom said after a moment.

Molly blinked at him through her tears. She couldn’t have heard that right…

“What?”

“I saw the way he looks at you when he thinks you don’t see him. He loves you,” Tom asserted.

Molly smiled in spite of herself. “…would you mind letting me out here? I…I have something I need to take care of.”

Tom pulled over and let her out of the car.

Molly paused a moment as she got out. “Thank you, Tom… for understanding. You really were a great fiancé. I’m sure you’ll make someone very happy someday.”

“You too, Molls…” Tom gave her a half-hearted smile. “Oh and Molly?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t send me a wedding invitation. Please. I don’t think I’m cut out for another exciting evening with Sherlock Holmes at the helm…”

Molly laughed and nodded an agreement. “Take care of yourself, Tom.”

She shut the door and watched him drive off then hailed a taxi.

“Where to miss?” the cabbie asked.

“Baker Street, please,” Molly replied, her heart suddenly feeling much, much lighter.

* * *

Sherlock sat dejectedly in his empty sitting room, the silence he so loved now itching inside his ears. He was startled when he heard a knock at the door.  _Mrs. Hudson probably forgot her keys…or lost them after one too many glasses of champagne._

He got up and made his way to the door to let in his inebriated landlady, the knocks becoming more and more insistent.

“Alright, alright. I’m coming,” he grumbled. “Be patient. For goodness sakes Mrs. Huds—Molly?”

There on his porch, in the glow of the streetlamp, stood Molly Hooper, still clad in that bright yellow dress, her hair now hanging loosely about her shoulders. She looked like sunshine personified as she stared up at him, a shy smile on her lips.

“Hi Sherlock…”

He stared down at her, buffering.

“…Can I come in?” she asked hesitantly.

He blinked and shook himself out of his buffer. “Of course…” He stepped to the side and motioned for her to come in. He followed her silently up the stairs to 221B, baffled by the sudden turn the evening had taken.

They stood awkwardly for a moment, not sure of whether they should sit or…

“Might I ask what I owe the pleasure at this hour?” Sherlock finally managed.

“It’s over. Tom and I…We realized that it just wasn’t right between us so we ended things…” Molly explained.

“I see…” Sherlock wasn’t sure how to respond to this. “I’m…s—“

“He said you’re in love with me…” Molly said, willing herself to meet his eyes.

Sherlock stared at her in shock. “I…”

“Is it true?” Molly wanted to look away shyly, but she planted herself firmly. “I realize that it’s late and I’m putting you on the spot asking this but I have to know, Sherlock… Do you love me?”

Sherlock stared at her wordlessly for a moment and Molly nodded, biting her lip in disappointment.

“Right…Sorry, I just hoped…I’ll let myself out…” she managed, looking down at her shoes as she started towards the door.

“ _Yes_ …” Sherlock breathed. Molly turned around, startled by his reply.

Sherlock glided across the floor, closing the gap between them to take her hand in his. “Yes Molly Hooper…I’m in love with you.” 

He let his hand drift to caress her hair as his other hand found its way to the small of her back, studying her face before lowering his lips to hers in tender kiss. Molly’s fingers found their way to his curls as she reciprocated, sending his heart racing. He reveled in the taste of her lips as their mouths moved together, her tongue finding its way through the seam of his lips to mingle with his. Were it not for the weight of her pressed against him, he’d swear that he was dreaming. But it wasn’t a dream. Molly,  _his_ Molly was in his arms, snogging him in the middle of his flat like there was no tomorrow.  _Finally!_

When at last their lips broke apart, Sherlock rested his forehead against hers, Molly’s hands still clinging about his neck.

“I love you, Molly…I’m sorry it took me so long to say it. I love you,” Sherlock whispered.

Molly smiled up at him, her heart soaring. “I love you too, Sherlock.”

Sherlock grinned, leaning in for another passionate kiss.

* * *

John smiled as he sat on their hotel bed, looking through some of the photos from the day before while Mary finished getting ready before they set out on their honeymoon.  _He might have been a murderer, but he wasn’t half bad at wedding photography. Too bad…_

He closed his laptop only to hear his text alert go off.

“Huh…just got a text from Sherlock…” he mused.

“Aww does he miss us already?” Mary laughed, exiting the bathroom. “What’d he say?”

“He says… ‘Molly and Meat Dagger broke it off. She and I are together now. Romantically and physically. Molly says hello. Have fun on your sex holiday. –SH,’” John read aloud.

John shook his head as Mary chuckled. “He can’t be serious…”

“You don’t think he wants us to have fun?” Mary teased.

“I mean about Molly…”

Mary shrugged. “Oh I don’t know, darling. I always figured those two would find their way to each other one of these days…Oooh! Molly sent a picture. Sherlock’s making breakfast.”

She showed him her mobile which did in fact have a picture of Sherlock in an apron…and not much else.

“Oi!” John laughed pushing the phone away.

Mary giggled and kissed his temple. “Come along now! We don’t want to miss our flight.”

John shook his head and grabbed their luggage, happily following his wife out the door.


	8. Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has been listening to "You're My Best Friend" by Queen nonstop...and it is driving John insane.  
> https://youtu.be/wAsPu-FTBsw

It had been about a month since the Sherrinford incident and things were finally getting back to…not normal exactly. John doubted anything could ever fully return to “normal” after everything they’d faced, losing Mary…No certainly never quite normal… But better. Things were definitely better. Brighter. Happier.

Baker Street had been rebuilt to its former glory in record time, thanks to a round the clock work crew funded by a certain generous, guilt-ridden albeit still insufferable Holmes brother. John was never quite sure which motivation won out: Mycroft’s guilt over his role in what had played out with Eurus, or his desire to have Sherlock no longer staying in his home. It probably depended on the day.

Still…the whole arduous experience had managed to soften things between the two Holmes brothers. They still bickered like school children, but there was a friendliness to it now. John would never say out loud that the Holmes brothers loved each other, certainly not to their faces, but the evidence was there now more than ever.

The sounds of Freddy Mercury’s voice started blaring from Sherlock’s room.

**_“Ooooh you make me live!”_ **

“Oh dear God, not this again…” John whispered.

Every minute that they were not actively on a case, Sherlock had been playing Queen’s You’re My Best Friend on repeat. For the last 8 days and counting…

It would seem that it wasn’t just Sherlock’s family relationships that were showing more prominent signs of love. Molly Hooper had become a mainstay of the new Baker Street in the past few weeks. To John’s knowledge, things between the detective and the pathologist had still not yet taken a full romantic turn, but they’d managed to mend the wounds inflicted during that infamous phone call and reconcile their relationship back to a comfortable friendship.  There was an openness between them now that hadn’t been there before. They were more at ease around each other with their hearts out in the open and the air cleared between them.

Despite them not being officially “together”, there was no doubt that the two of them were still head over heels for one another. There were the shy little smiles in the morgue, the “I thought you might be hungry” drop bys with take away, the more frequent experiments in the lab…and now, apparently, giddy love songs on repeat.

“Morning,” Sherlock greeted happily as he strolled, or more accurately, danced into the kitchen.

“Morning Sherlock,” John replied, typing an update into the blog. “Seeing Molly today?”

Sherlock smiled unconsciously at the sound of her name. “I was thinking of stopping by Bart’s later, yes…Why?”

“No reason…You just seem happy, that’s all,” John chuckled.

“I’m happy on days I don’t see Molly, too…” Sherlock defended weakly.

“Maybe,” John mused. “But that’s _normal_  happy. You’ve got that ‘Molly Happy’ look on your face.”

“I don’t know what you mean…” Sherlock smiled into his coffee mug.

“Sherlock, when are you going to ask her out properly?” John demanded.

Sherlock blinked his friend from the kitchen.

John continued, “You’re nothing but smiles at the mere mention of her name. You spend practically all of your free time at Bart’s or at her flat, and when you can’t be around her, you’re talking about her or at least thinking about her. You’ve been listening to the same song on repeat all week…You’re in love with her, Sherlock. You know it, she knows it, anyone with  _eyes_  knows it. So when are you going to do something about it?”

Sherlock pressed his lips together as he stared down into his coffee, mulling over his friend’s words.

“…do you really think she’ll say yes?” he asked finally.

John smiled at his friend. “I know she will, mate. So what are you waiting for?”

Sherlock grinned to himself and set down his mug.

“Thank you, John,” he replied, grabbing his coat and heading out the door.

* * *

Molly was just finishing cleaning up from her latest autopsy when Sherlock strolled into the morgue.

“Oh hey Sherlock, I wasn’t expecting you until later,” she said cheerily.

“Molly you and I have known each other for a while now…” Sherlock said, making his way to stand next to her.

“Uhuh…” Molly glanced up him, wondering where he was planning on going with that statement.

“And in that time we have come to, um…be rather fond of each other, yes?” he asked, shoving his hands in his coat pockets nervously.

Molly smiled and continued cleaning. “You know how I feel about you Sherlock,” she replied simply.

“I hope so,” he responded softly, taking her hand and making her turn look at him. “Molly Hooper you make me a better person, and every moment I spend with you is a treasure. Would you perhaps consider…” He cleared his throat, unsuccessful in calming his nerves. “Would you do me the honor…I had this all planned out in the cab…What I’m trying to say is…”

“Would you like to have dinner?”

“Molly, will you marry me?”

Molly stared at him wide eyed as she processed the words that had overlapped her own.

“What?” she breathed.

Sherlock gingerly took both her hands in his. “My heart is yours Molly…I love you. I’ve always loved you. I realize this may seem sudden, what with us never properly having gone on a date before…but I know what I want and what I want is to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me. I promise I will still try to court you even when we’re— Mmph!”

Sherlock’s ramblings were cut short as Molly fervently pressed her lips to his. His arms instinctively encircled her as he returned her affections before coming up for air.

“Is that a yes?” he breathed, causing Molly to laugh as she bobbed her head happily.

* * *

 Across town, John received a text from Sherlock. He nearly fell out of his chair when he opened it. There on his mobile was a picture of Sherlock and Molly, Sherlock pressing a kiss to Molly’s hair as Molly grinned ear to ear, her hand held up happily to display a sparkling ring on her petite finger.

HOW’S THAT FOR DOING SOMETHING ABOUT IT? –SH

John chuckled and showed the picture to Rosie, who was happily sitting in her bouncer on the floor.

“About time, huh sweetie?”

Rosie cooed happily, reaching a slobbery hand towards the image of her beloved godparents.

John smiled and withdrew his phone to reply.

PLEASE LET ME BE THERE WHEN YOU TELL EVERYONE DOWN AT SCOTLAND YARD. ANDERSON’S HEART MAY JUST EXPLODE…-JW


	9. When's the last time you smiled?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly is having a rough day. Sherlock tries to help make it a little better
> 
> Featuring La Vie En Rose by Louis Armstrong https://youtu.be/8IJzYAda1wA

Molly focused on her paperwork as the two detectives discussed their case a few feet from her. It was all she could do to hold herself together lately. It had been two weeks since her father’s funeral and every day hurt like hell. She’d learned to force herself to go about her day, get on with her life…but that didn’t change how much she missed him.

Some days were easier than others. Meena had stocked her freezer with multiple casseroles and made sure to check in on her. Molly had felt like she was doing a bit better day by day, and then she’d heard one of her dad’s favorite songs playing on the radio in the café that morning…

It had been like a punch to the gut at first…but then it was almost comforting. Like a part of him was still there with her.

She set her ipod to play a playlist of her dad’s favorites and went to put away her files, the detectives bidding her farewell. As she pushed her chunky frames back up the bridge of her nose, she noticed that Sherlock Holmes was still standing in the morgue.

 _Of course the one day I wear my stupid, dorky glasses is the day the gorgeous Sherlock Holmes decides to hang around,_ she thought bitterly.

“When’s the last time you smiled?” he asked suddenly.  

“What?” Molly asked, startled by the sudden sound of his voice.

“Forgive me. That wasn’t intended as a misogynistic ‘you should smile’ sort of comment. I just…wondered,” Sherlock explained.

“Oh…Thanks..that’s sweet of you,” Molly replied, closing the filing cabinet. “My dad passed away a few weeks ago. It’s…It was for the best. He’d been sick for a long time and I-I think he was ready…I just miss him.”

Sherlock nodded. “You were close.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah. We were…” Molly pressed her lips together as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

The sound of trumpet music filled the silence between them.

“I must say, I never pegged you for being a fan of old crooner music,” Sherlock commented.

That almost got Molly to smile. “Dad liked this kind of music. This was one of his favorites. He sang it to me a lot when I was little. Poorly, but it always made me laugh. He would say he wanted this to be the song we danced to at my wedding someday…”

She sniffed and took a steadying breath, determined not to cry in front of Sherlock. She was tired of crying.

Sherlock watched her a moment, thinking, before extending a hand to her.

“What are you doing?” Molly asked, looking back and forth from his outstretched hand to his face.

“Dance with me,” he requested.

“Dance with you?  _You._  Dancing?” Molly asked incredulously.

“Is the idea really so astounding to you, Miss Hooper? I’m allowed to have a hobby outside of my detective work,” Sherlock replied playfully, his hand still outstretched.

“I suppose not…I just…I’ve never seen you dance before,” Molly replied.

“When would you have had occasion to see me dance?” Sherlock asked.

“Right…” Molly looked down at her shoes.

“Well?” Sherlock asked gently, his hand still outstretched.

Molly smiled slightly and tentatively took his hand, allowing him to take the lead. She opted to look at the floor rather than meet his eyes, afraid that he might see the blush that crept across her cheeks as his hand rested gently at the small of her back.

“Please tell me this isn’t your way of telling me you see yourself as some sort of father figure to me. I’m only a few years younger than you,” she quipped.

“No Miss Hooper. This is simply a dance between friends to cheer you up,” he replied. She could hear the smile in his voice, warming his rich baritone.

“Friends?” Molly asked, a little surprised.

“Would you prefer colleagues?” Sherlock asked casually.

“No. I like the sound of being friends much better, Mr. Holmes,” Molly smiled, finally looking up at him.

“Sherlock,” he corrected gently.

Her glasses had slid down again, and now were sitting dangerously on the tip of her nose.

“Sorry,” she laughed, embarrassed as she reached to push them back up. “Stupid glasses keep falling down.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re cute with glasses.” Sherlock smiled, reaching to help her fix them.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” Molly replied.

“Maybe…is it working?” Sherlock asked, giving her a cheeky grin.

“Maybe…” Molly smiled, avoiding his eyes again.

_Yep. Definitely blushing now._

The song ended and she shyly broke away from the dashing detective.

“Um..thanks for the dance…and for trying to cheer me up,” she said quietly.

“Anytime Miss Hooper,” Sherlock replied.

“Molly,” she corrected.

“Molly,” he repeated with a smile. “’til our next cadaver then?”

Molly nodded.

Sherlock pulled on his scarf and headed for the door. “I hope you’ll have a good night…Molly.”

Just hearing the way he said her name was enough to make her smile for the rest of the evening.

* * *

 “What is it?” Sherlock asked as he whirled his new bride around the dance floor.

“Just remembering the first time we danced together,” Molly replied, returning to the present.

Sherlock nodded, smiling at the memory. “You still had those ridiculous glasses, as I recall,” he chuckled.

Molly smacked his shoulder lightly. “You said I looked cute in those,” she admonished playfully.

“You were  _grieving._  I was trying to make you feel better,” Sherlock replied, defensively. “…and you were. You look cute in everything.”

That earned a smile from her. “That’s better,” she laughed, resting her head against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry he couldn’t be here tonight,” Sherlock murmured quietly.

“It’s alright…” Molly sighed. “He would have liked you.”

“You think so?” Sherlock asked skeptically.

“Mmhm,” Molly nodded resolutely, smiling up at him.

Their song ended and a familiar trumpet melody began to play.

“Sherlock? What’s going on?” Molly asked, recognizing the tune. She hadn’t put it on their list of songs…

“I know it’s not the same as dancing with your own father, but there is someone who has offered to step in for the father-daughter dance,” Sherlock replied, turning Molly around and pointing to the edge of the dance floor.

Across the floor stood Sherlock’s father, extending a hand and a warm smile to his new daughter-in-law. There in a line behind him stood Mycroft, and John, and Greg, and Mike Stamford, and Anderson…even Mrs. Hudson was in line to dance with her.

“Multiple someones…”

Molly felt her eyes begin to brim with tears.

“I take it back,” she sniffed. “He wouldn’t have liked you…He would have _loved_  you. Almost as much as I do.”

Sherlock smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “They’re waiting for you, Mrs. Holmes.”

Molly smiled and wiped away the tears from her eyes as her father-in-law came to join her on the dance floor.


	10. A Fun Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Molly go on a case at the carnival. It doesn't go as planned...but it does bring about some interesting conversation. 
> 
> I have no idea if they have churros in the U.K., but I feel like it is safe to assume fried food at carnivals is universal

“Remind me to never come with you on a case ever again,” Molly breathed as she and Sherlock ducked between carnival booths. “’Come to the fair, Molly. It will be _fun_ , Molly.’ I thought, ‘Gee, what a nice idea. Maybe he’ll win me a toy otter or something!’ But  _noooo_. Instead we spend half the night being chased by carnies because  _someone_  is a lousy fake psychic who couldn’t keep his insulting deductions to himself!”

Sherlock smirked at her as he removed his fake beard. “I would argue that all psychics are fake.”

“Not the point,” she grumbled, wrapping her arms about her freezing midsection. How she let Sherlock convince her into dressing up like a belly dancer, she would never know.

_‘It’s for a case, Molly.’ Worst excuse ever!_

“Have I ever told you that you’re incredibly cute when you’re grumpy?” Sherlock asked sweetly as he discarded his disguise.

Molly pressed her lips together and avoided looking at him.

He smiled and came to stand next to her, wrapping his arms about her shoulders to warm her. She pursed her lips and let out a deep breath through her nose, determined to stay upset with him.

Sherlock laughed, hugging her closer. “Oh come now, Molly. Just think of how dull your life would be without me. Pretty sad, huh? Besides, nights like these make for a fun story to tell our grandchildren, someday.”

Molly’s expression softened as she looked up at him. “You want to have grandkids together?”

They hadn’t ever discussed the topic of children—technically this was only their third date—But the fact that Sherlock had thought about a future with her…well, she thought it was really sweet.

Sherlock cleared his throat. “Not the point,” he muttered dismissively.

Molly smiled and shook her head as she wrapped her arms around him, working her way inside the warmth of his coat.

“I’m sure we’ll have a lifetime of exciting stories to tell them, someday…definitely will if John’s babysitter keeps bailing on him,” Molly chuckled.

“I thought you weren’t coming on cases with me anymore,” Sherlock replied slyly.

“Buy me a churro before the night is over and we’ll see how I feel.” Molly grinned cheekily.

Sherlock chuckled and pulled her close to him as he pressed a kiss to her lips. Molly sighed happily as she reciprocated, letting herself melt into his embrace, deepening their kiss. 

Perhaps it was the night air, or the thrill of the chase setting in, but before they knew it they were snogging each other senseless. Molly’s hands drifted to Sherlock’s neck as their passion heightened. Sherlock guiding her to lean against the flimsy wall of the carnival booth behind them.

“Oi!” interrupted the carnie manning the gaming booth they’d jostled, poking his head around the corner. “Do you mind?”

“Sorry, mate,” Sherlock replied in a cockney accent. “Just taking a little break with the lady friend here. Stretching the lallies a bit, if you know what I mean.” Sherlock gave the man a suggestive wink. “Suppose we best be getting back to work, ay darling?” Sherlock picked up his turban and fake beard in one hand while taking Molly’s hand in the other. 

Molly managed a nod and a mumbled “sorry” as Sherlock led her out into the open air, a blush heating her cheeks.

As they walked away, Molly noticed Sherlock seemed very pleased with himself.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

Sherlock smirked as he pulled a plush purple otter from inside his coat which he had evidently swiped from the booth shortly after they’d been interrupted, and handed it to her.

“You were supposed to win this,” Molly laughed.

Sherlock shrugged. “The game was rigged. If he wasn’t going to play fair, why should I?”

Molly shot him a reprimanding look as she hugged her ill-gotten prize.

“You still owe me a churro,” she reminded him playfully.


	11. Nightmare on Baker Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has a nightmare involving Molly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First part involves a lot of "dream logic" so prepare for sudden switches in scenery.

Sherlock listened as footsteps echoed off the tile floor surrounding the pool.

“Did you miss me, Sherlock?” Moriarty laughed. “Admit it. You missed me.”

Sherlock turned to face the man across from him. “How…”

“Oh  _please_  Sherlock, don’t be boring,” Moriarty groaned. “It doesn’t matter how. You of  _all people_  should know that.”

 He waved a hand to the edge of the rooftop of Bart’s, overlooking the city. 

“I was gone for a while, but now  _I’m_   _baaaaaaaaack!_ Back to take care of a little unfinished business. And you know how I dislike unfinished business. Especially between us…We had so much  _fun_ together, you and I. I must have gotten carried away…Turns out I  _missed_ something. Hard to believe _I know_ …but don’t worry, Sherlock. I always keep my promises…”

Sherlock watched as Moriarty strolled casually around Molly Hooper’s sitting room. “What do you mean…” He shook his head, trying to orient himself.

Moriarty pouted at him from behind Molly’s overstuffed chair.

“Don’t you remember? I told you I would  _burn_  the  _heart_  out of you,” he replied sweetly, tossing an empty gas can over his shoulder. “And that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

Moriarty flicked a lit match at his feet, causing the room around him to become engulfed in flames.

“Sherlock?” Molly’s voice came from somewhere inside the flat. 

“ _Molly!_ ” 

The smoke stung his eyes, blinding him as he stumbled towards the sound of her voice. He found the door and flung it open. He blinked, clearing his eyes in the now smokeless room to see Moriarty sitting on his bed casually, his arms around Molly as she sat in his lap, handcuffed.

“It’s always the quiet ones that cause all the trouble,” Moriarty clucked, resting his chin on her shoulder. 

“Let her go,” Sherlock demanded, his voice cracking.

Moriarty smirked. “Mmm no. Can’t do that, I’m afraid. See…as long as she’s breathing, you can beat me. She’s the only reason you beat me before, clever girl.” He nuzzled his nose into her hair, breathing her in. “ _Deliciously_  so as I recall…not that’d you’d know anything about that.”

He gave Sherlock a wolfish grin as he placed a kiss to her neck.

“But she was always on your side. Weren’t you, Mols? Even during that pesky doomed little engagement, it was always you, Sherlock. She’d always choose you. E-ver-y time. And that’s the kind of loyalty that just…get’s in the way.”

Sherlock felt as if his feet were glued to the floor as he watched Molly helplessly, her eyes shut tight as the madman held her in his lap, murmuring in her ear.

“Should have told her when you had the chance,” Moriarty chided playfully as he pulled a gun and held it to Molly’s chest. “Say goodbye, Sherlock.”

“No PLEASE—”  **BANG!**

The shot rang out, echoing off the walls of his bedroom. Molly let out a tiny gasp as Moriarty dumped her to the side. He strolled like a phantom towards the door, a gaping bullet hole through his chest as well. 

“It’s nice having loose ends tied up, isn’t it?” he sighed happily before walking out the door.

Sherlock finally felt himself able to move, though infuriatingly slowly as he tried to rush to Molly’s side. After what felt like an eternity, he was beside her. He placed his hands against the wound in her chest, attempting to slow the bleeding, but she pushed them away, coughing as she placed a cool hand to his cheek.

“I guess it’s my turn now,” she croaked, a gentle smile on her lips as she looked up at him. “Not quite as dramatic as jumping off a roof, I know…”

“Don’t talk like that. You’ll be fine, you’ll see. Just stay with me…You can’t die.  _Please_  don’t die…I can’t lose you, Molly.  _Please_ …” 

“You always mattered most to me too,” she whispered, wiping a tear from his cheek. She gently lifted his blood drenched hand to her lips, pressing a cool kiss to his knuckles as she faded…

* * *

Sherlock sat up, gasping for air, his heart racing. He blinked away tears as he looked about his room. Dark. Empty. No Molly. No Moriarty…

A dream… a horrible,  _horrible_  dream. That’s all it was… it had to be.

His heart still pounding in his chest, he sprang from bed in a fit of adrenaline, tossing on his coat as he walked out the door and out onto the street to hail a cab.

The cabbie looked at him in his rear view mirror, concern in his eyes as Sherlock gave him Molly’s address.

“You alright, sir?” the cabbie asked as Sherlock fidgeted nervously in the back seat, watching London fly by around them.

“Fine…just, drive quickly…”Sherlock replied, his knee bouncing agitatedly, contemplating if he could have run to her flat faster. “And…don’t mention this to my brother?”

The cabbie smiled quietly. Sherlock always had a way of picking out which drivers were under Mycroft’s employment. He also knew that Mycroft would be fully aware of Sherlock’s location within the hour, whether he said anything or not. 

Sherlock nearly fell out of the cab in his haste to exit the vehicle as they pulled up to Molly’s flat. He tossed some money to the driver with a nod of thanks, doing his best not to full out sprint to Molly’s door.

“Molly?” he called as he hammered his fist on her door. 

He sucked in the cool night air, in agony with every second that passed. He probably should have changed out of his pajamas, in hind sight…He began to knock again when he heard stirrings from the inside.

He sighed in relief as she opened the door, squinting up at him sleepily in her ridiculous paw print pajamas. 

She tossed the cricket bat she was holding back into the corner. “Sherlock do you have any idea what time it—Ooof!” She let out a surprised squeak as he enveloped her in his arms, hugging her tightly.

“Sherlock, are you alright?” she asked into his t-shirt, wrapping her arms instinctively about his waist.

Sherlock nodded quietly against her shoulder, his heart rate slowly returning to normal as he felt her breathing against him. 

“I…had a nightmare about you and..I just…I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” 

“I see…” Molly replied, touched by his concern. “Well, I’m alright… as you can see.” 

She attempted to look up at him, though he still held her so tight it was a bit of a struggle.

“Yes, of course.” Sherlock cleared his throat and released her reluctantly. 

They stood silently for a moment in her entryway.

“I’ll just… head back to bed then…” Molly said after a moment.

“Right. Yes…very good.” Sherlock nodded. “…Goodnight, Molly.” 

He turned and placed a hand on the doorknob. He knew he should leave and head back to Baker Street but…he couldn’t seem to will himself to leave her.

“…Sherlock?” Molly smiled up gently at him. “…Would you like to stay?”

He let out a sigh of relief, a smile spreading across his lips at the invitation. He cleared his throat and attempted a more casual expression as he turned back to her. “If you don’t mind…”

She smiled and shook her head at him, taking his hand to lead him to her bedroom. She knew him well enough by now to know what he needed from her. And tonight, apparently, that was to be by her side and know she was safe.

“It’s just…Baker Street is so far…” he tried to justify, secretly thrilled by the way she led him by the hand.

“Uh-huh.” Molly agreed, not the least bit convinced. 

She climbed into bed and patted the spot beside her. Sherlock climbed in next to her, doing his best to avoid jostling a sleeping Toby at the end of the bed, grateful that she didn’t question him. Sometimes he just needed her…and tonight he  _really_  needed her.

To Molly’s surprise he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close to him, but she didn’t comment. Instead she thread her fingers with his and let her toes brush against his leg, warming them slightly. 

“Do you want to tell me about it?” she asked quietly into the dark. 

Sherlock shook his head, burying himself in her hair, breathing in the very real, very much alive Molly beside him.

“Maybe in the morning…thank you, Molly.”

She smiled to herself, taking a moment to just enjoy having him beside her.

“Goodnight Sherlock,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his fingers, his hand still in hers.

He exhaled quietly, feeling the warmth of her lips on his skin. She was alive. She was alive and she was with him, at least for tonight. 

“Goodnight Molly,” he replied, pulling her a little tighter still. 

He laid awake, listening to her breathing beside him, feeling her pulse beat steadily in her wrist. 

She was safe.

He allowed himself to snuggle into her hair, sharing her pillow, letting the smell of her shampoo lull him into a sense of security and eventually to sleep. Perhaps in the morning he would be brave enough to tell her…tell her everything he’d left unsaid. But for now…he was at peace, feeling for once that he was where he was meant to be. 


	12. Cluing for Birthdays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not exactly a drabble but I received a prompt for an established Sherlolly Birthday Scavenger hunt from @SimplyShelbs16 to help me through my writing drought. (Thanks again!)

“Are we almost done?” John complained from where he lay on the morgue floor, looking not unlike his three year old daughter when she missed her nap.

“Only twenty four more clues to go,” Sherlock chuckled, keeping his eyes on the cadaver in front of him.

“ _Twenty four…”_  John muttered. “Your wife is trying to torture me…”

Sherlock smirked as he found the small piece of paper rolled up and tucked behind Mr. Davidson’s ear. “Not having fun?”

“ _Oodles!”_  John huffed.

Sherlock put on a sympathetic pout. “Humor me, John. It is my birthday, after all.”

John glared at Sherlock from the floor, shaking his head as he conceded.

“She just  _had_  to make it a challenge for you by throwing in that clue with the Madonna lyric…We all thought ‘Molly’s such a nice girl. Why on earth is she with Sherlock?’ Turns out she’s just as ridiculous as you are…” John ranted to himself, still sprawled out on the floor like an exhausted child.

“Hey!” Sherlock protested.

“Oh you know what I mean…” John sighed. “What’s it say?”

Sherlock unrolled the tiny piece of paper and slid Mr. Davidson back into place, closing the door to the cooler.

“ _Gone are the days of pain and regret. Your next clue lies with the_ _Crêpes Suzette.”_ Sherlock smiled. “Word play. Clever…”

“Mind filling me in on where we’re headed?” John asked, slowly getting to his feet as Sherlock headed for the door.

“Molly’s favorite brunch spot of course!”

“Right…” John rolled his eyes as he followed his friend out the door.

* * *

“Bonjour! Welcome to La Roux. Table for two?” the hostess greeted cheerily as Sherlock and John walked in.

“Not today I’m afraid,” Sherlock replied. “I believe my wife may have left a clue for me here earlier. Petite brunette. Brightly colored jumper. Smile like a sunny day…”

The hostess smiled at Sherlock’s description of his spouse. “Oui, your wife was here, monsieur. Although I do not recall her leaving any clues. She  _did_  place an order for take away. Asked that I give it to you personally.”

The hostess brought out a box from within her podium and handed it to Sherlock.

Sherlock took the box from her with a nod. “Thank you, Suzette. You’ve been very helpful.”

With that he turned and walked out the door.

John looked to Suzette for an explanation, but she only shrugged before returning her attention to the reservations list.

“Where are we going now? She didn’t give us any clues,” John asked, trying to keep up with Sherlock as he hailed a cab.

“She  _was_  the clue, John. Well her perfume was…and the take away,” Sherlock explained, opening the car door.

“What’s the take away got to do with any of this?” John slid in next to Sherlock.

Sherlock smiled. “Payment.”

* * *

“Molly has Mycroft in on this?” John asked as the cab pulled up to Buckingham palace.

“Probably. But we’re not here to see Mycroft…” Sherlock replied casually.

The two men were granted entrance and led into a familiar sitting room, where Anthea sat waiting for them.

“Happy Birthday, Sherlock. You’re later than Molly thought you would be,” Anthea teased as she stood to greet them.

“Not by much, I’m sure,” Sherlock chuckled, handing her the box of take away.

She opened the box and hungrily inspected a macaroon before taking a bite.

“Shall I tell Molly that her choice of payment was satisfactory?” Sherlock asked, already casing the room for potential clues.

Anthea nodded and brushed the crumbs from her lips.

“She knows me so well…” the P.A. sighed happily.  

John glanced around the room for an ashtray, hoping to complete their set that they had going at Baker Street while Sherlock searched.  

Anthea shook her head and whistled, which was followed by the sound a distant jingle and skittering paws.

“Well hello,” Sherlock said as he knelt to greet the corgi that trotted into the room.

“Molly’s idea?” John asked.

“Rosie’s actually,” Anthea replied with a chuckle. “The girls all brainstormed a bit during her last playdate.”

John nodded, knowing better than to ask Anthea too many questions. “Ready to go Sherlock?”

“Almost,” Sherlock replied, pulling out his phone. He snapped a quick selfie with the happy pup, giving them a playful scratch behind the ears before standing.

“Thanks again, Anthea,” he called over his shoulder as he walked out, typing away on his phone.

Most likely sending Mycroft the selfie, John guessed. 

He nodded goodbye to Anthea and followed behind Sherlock, nonchalantly picking up an ashtray on his way out.

“Put it back, John,” Anthea demanded, not bothering to look up from her day planner.

“Sorry…” John replied, putting it back. Maybe next time…

* * *

“Happy Birthday, brother mine,” Mycroft greeted as Sherlock strolled into his office. “You’re late.”

“John had to pick up Rosie. Required an extra stop on the way here,” Sherlock explained.

“Excuses, excuses…” Mycroft smiled. “Have you guessed what your darling wife has for you, this evening?”

“I figured it out a few days ago. But the hunt itself has been a gift in its own way, I suppose,” Sherlock replied, seating himself across from his brother.

Mycroft smirked and took a sip of tea. “You’re wrong.”

“I beg your pardon?” Sherlock asked.

“You haven’t figured it out,” Mycroft said superiorly, setting down his cup and saucer.

“Haven’t I?”

“Nope.” Mycroft popped the ‘p’ in the way that his brother was characteristically inclined to do.

“We’ll see about that,” Sherlock replied dismissively.

Mycroft smirked knowingly. “You’re going to love it.”

“I’m sure I will,” Sherlock huffed, losing his patience. “Are you going to tell me where to find Molly, or not?”

“Very well…” the elder Holmes sighed, handing him the final clue.

Sherlock unrolled the piece of paper and smiled as he read it.

_Hello my darling Birthday Boy!_

_I hope you’ve had fun on this little quest._

_You know where to find me (it’s the place you love best!)_

_-Molly   xxx_

“Brunch at La Roux next week?” Mycroft asked as his brother stood.

“Same time as always.” Sherlock smiled.

* * *

Molly was waiting outside of 221b when Sherlock’s cab pulled up.

“Did you have a fun time today?” she asked as he planted a kiss to her cheek.

“Best birthday present ever,” he replied, pulling her in for a hug as they walked inside.

“Well there’s still something else I was planning on giving you…” Molly giggled.

“Yes the new microscope I’ve had my eye on, I know!” Sherlock grinned. “I may have found it under the bed…”

Molly started laughing and shook her head as they entered their flat.

“I wasn’t snooping, mind you! Toby stole my slipper and I was looking for it,” he added in his defense.

“I suppose it’s a good thing that wasn’t the only gift I have for you.” She smiled slyly and held a box out for him. She grinned triumphantly at his surprise. “Go on. Open it!”

They sat down on the couch together and Sherlock tore into the wrapping as Molly watched in anticipation. He smiled at her eagerness, taking his time opening his gift just to tease her. Finally he lifted the lid of the box. Sherlock blinked down at the contents of the box for a moment before wordlessly removing it. He studied the miniature deerstalker in his hand then turned to look at his wife.

“The due date is September 19th, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it ends up being a bit earlier—“ Molly’s words were cut off as Sherlock enveloped her in his arms. She laughed as he pulled her into his lap, tears of joy welling in her eyes as he kissed her neck.

“Happy Birthday,” she laughed when he finally released her enough to look at her.

He reached tenderly to brush a tear from her cheek with his thumb, his own eyes brimming happily.

“Best Birthday present ever.”


	13. Beautiful Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gives Molly a "tour" of his mind palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From @Simplyshelbs16xoxo's suggestion for the title prompt on tumblr.

“What’s it like in there?” Molly asked as Sherlock sat up from his reclined position on the couch. He’d been organizing details from his latest case in his mind palace when she arrived with their takeaway.

“In my mind palace?” Sherlock chuckled, taking the plate she handed him.

“Mmhm!” Molly nodded, seating herself beside him on the couch. “You spend a lot of time in there. What does it look like? Where do you go?”

Sherlock smiled. “Depends on the subject matter I’m storing information on. Why do you want to know?”

“Just curious, I guess.” Molly shrugged. “It’s a place that only you get to experience. It is uniquely you. I like learning new things about you.”

Sherlock considered this and set down his plate.

“I suppose I could give you a tour of sorts,” he offered.

“Really?” Molly asked, surprised.

“Well, it wouldn’t be my entire mind palace, but I store a fair amount of information around the flat. That is the, um, visualized version of the flat in my head,” Sherlock explained.

“Alright.” Molly set her plate aside.

“Right.” Sherlock stood up and paced about the room, considering where to start.

“Well, there’s this wall for starters,” he began, gesturing to the wall behind her.

Molly turned to look up at the yellow spray-painted smiley face above her.

“When I’m working on a case, I keep relevant information stored in various points of the wall paper. It’s a convenient place to lay everything out so to speak, although it can get cluttered during some of my more in depth cases, which is when I usually make use of your flat,” he explained.

Molly nodded. “Ah, so  _that’s_  what you meant when you said you needed the space…”

“Right…” Sherlock nodded and looked about the room. “Now the more day to day information, I keep in assorted objects. Music on the wall between the windows—mostly in the scull—Literature and the like goes on the desk. And of course things related to John I mostly keep in his chair.”

Sherlock began to walk around the room, gesturing to each object as he spoke.

Molly smiled as she watched him. “I assume you keep information about me stored in the morgue,” she laughed.

Sherlock paused. “Among other places, yes,” he admitted.

“What other places?” Molly asked curiously.

Sherlock looked about the room nervously. “Everywhere…”

“Come again?” she replied, sure she hadn’t heard him right.

“Molly, you’re _everywhere_ …” Sherlock sighed, bringing himself to look her in the eyes. “Most people I am able to sort out important details and delete the trivial, but with you I could never bring myself to delete anything. Every detail was important…but I was in denial of my feelings for you for so long that I couldn’t bring myself to organize them all, because that would mean I would have to grow up and face the truth… So I would store them anywhere I could. Your favorite song here. The way you like your tea there… There is no one specific ‘Molly drawer’ or ‘Molly room’…you’re everywhere. It’s chaos…glorious, comforting, beautiful chaos…”

Molly stared at him in stunned silence before finally bringing herself to stand, closing the distance between them to wrap her arms about his torso.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” she breathed, resting her head against his chest.

“Your—your welcome,” he replied, returning the hug.

He placed a kiss to the crown of her hair before resting his cheek against her head.

“You know, in hind sight, it is astounding that it took me so long to fully comprehend how much I love you,” he mused.

“You’ve got that right!” Molly teased. “But I forgive you. You were worth the wait.”

“I sincerely hope so,” Sherlock replied with a smile before bending to meet her lips.


	14. Someone To Watch Over Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Molly share a dance.

“Sherlock Holmes, you have the strangest record collection I have ever seen,” Molly teased as she thumbed through his music collection.

“Like yours is so much better,” Sherlock shot back with a laugh from the kitchen. “At least mine has classical composers in the mix. Do you really want our Godchild growing up on nothing but saccharine pop songs?”

Molly rolled her eye. “At least my music doesn’t make her cry.”

Rosie cooed happily in her bouncer as Molly made a few goofy faces at her from over the stack of vinyls.

Sherlock groaned. “That was one time!”

Molly laughed and continued to search through for a suitable music choice for the three of them.

“I will admit that Tchaikovsky’s Mazeppa might have been a little advanced for her,” Sherlock admitted, coming to join her and Rosie as he finished drying the final dish. “However!” he added defensively. “It was almost nap time.”

“Uh-huh, sure.” Molly rolled her eyes with a smile. “Hello! What do we have here? I wouldn’t have pegged you for being a fan of Ol’ Blue Eyes.”

Molly pulled out the Frank Sinatra album from his collection and waved it playfully.

“That was for a case,” Sherlock corrected.

“Well he’s half way between Tchaikovsky and the latest top ten charts I suppose.” Molly smiled as she set the needle to the vinyl carefully, letting her shoulders bounce along to the melody that filled the flat.

_Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars. Let me see what spring is like on a-Jupiter and Mars._

“What are you doing?” Sherlock chuckled, setting down his dishtowel.

“Dancing,” Molly replied, picking up Rosie to sway around the room.

_In other words: Hold my hand. In other words: baby kiss me._

Molly placed an energetic kiss to Rosie’s cheek, sending giggles bubbling from her chubby cheeks.

“ _That’s_ not dancing,” Sherlock stated matter of factly.

“Sure it is.” Molly started to bounce Rosie around the room, her movements even more exaggerated to make a point.

Sherlock smiled as he watched Molly and Rosie move gracelessly around the room.

_Fill my heart with song, let me sing forever more. You are all I long for. All I worship and adore._

“Alright, that’s it. I’m going to teach you how to dance. Come here,” Sherlock laughed.

Molly raised her eyebrow at his skeptically as she set a now squirming Rosie back down in her bouncer.

“I’m serious. Come here,” Sherlock insisted light heartedly.

“Alright.” Molly smiled and took his outstretched hand, allowing him to spin her.

_In other words: please be true. In other words, in other words: I love you._

Molly laughed nervously as the song ended and a much slower song began. Sherlock cleared his throat and adjusted their position accordingly, talking her through where to place her hands as he drew her closer to himself, letting one hand rest gently on the small of her back.

_There’s a somebody I’m longing to see. I hope that she turns out to be someone who’ll watch over me._

“So…what kind of case was it that required you to have a Sinatra album?” Molly asked, doing her best to keep her voice even and ignore the way her heart was fluttering over their sudden change in proximity.

“It was a couple years ago. Not a very exciting case—a four at best—but things had been slow. I had to go undercover as a lounge singer,” Sherlock explained.

“A lounge singer? You?” Molly laughed.

Sherlock smirked and began to sing along. “I’m a little lamb who’s lost in the wood. I know I could always be good to one who’ll watch over me.”

Molly felt a blush warm her cheeks as he serenaded her.

“Although I may not be the man some girls think of as handsome,” he crooned playfully.

“Doubt it,” Molly whispered incredulously, making him smile and draw her in tighter to sing in her ear, sending her heart racing.

“To her heart I’ll carry the key. Won’t you tell her please to put on some speed. Follow my lead. Oh how I need someone to watch over me.”

The sound of violin filled the silence between them as he caught her eyes, studying her face, only inches from his own.

“What are we doing, Sherlock?” Molly whispered.

“Dancing. I thought that was obvious,” Sherlock replied, his voice low.

“You know what I mean…Is that all this is? Just…dancing?”

Sherlock’s gaze drifted to her mouth as he considered her words. “It doesn’t have to be.”

Their eyes locked. Hesitantly, Molly leaned in to catch his lips.

“Knock, knock,” John greeted as he entered the flat, startling them apart. He looked over his two obviously flustered friends. “…Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes!”

“Sherlock was just, um, teaching me how to dance.”

Molly suppressed a chuckle at Sherlock’s exasperated sigh.

John eyed the two suspiciously. “Riiight…Well don’t mind me. I’m just here to pick up my daughter.”

He gathered Rosie up in his arms and collected her things while her Godparents shared a guilty glance, the two of them having ever so briefly forgotten that she was in the room.

“Say goodnight to Uncle Sherlock and Aunt Molly,” John instructed.

Rosie pressed both of her tiny fists to her mouth and held them outstretched in front of her, blowing them kisses from where she sat perched on her father’s hip.

Molly and Sherlock bid her and John goodnight. They soon found themselves standing among Rosie’s playthings in a suddenly much emptier flat.

“Care for another dance?” Sherlock asked shyly after a moment.

Molly grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”


	15. Mistletoe and Gingernuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Sherlolly

Sherlock shook the snow from his coat as he made his way up the stairs to 221b, exhausted from the week spent undercover in Liverpool. He stopped short, his muscles tensing as he heard movement in his flat, but soon relaxed as he heard Molly’s mumbled cursing to herself.

He entered quietly to find every inch of the flat decorated to the nines; lights everywhere, hats adorning the scull on the wall and on the mantel, and Molly perched precariously on a step ladder as she attempted to hang mistletoe from the kitchen archway. Even with the added boost it was proving to be a challenging reach for her.

“Molly Hooper, you have outdone yourself,” he praised from the doorway.

“Sherlock!” Molly squeaked in surprise, scrambling to maintain her balance. He rushed over to catch her, lifting her off the step and onto the floor beside him. She held onto his forearms as her feet found purchase on the much steadier surface.

“I thought you weren’t coming home until tomorrow,” she breathed.

He shrugged. “Decided to come home early. Are you not happy to see me?”

“No of course I am,” she laughed sheepishly. “It’s just…I had this plan that I was going to surprise you with the decorations and the tree and I was going to wear my new light up Christmas jumper and make ginger nuts…”

“Ginger nuts! Mmm,” he hummed excitedly. “Do you want me to walk out and come back in a half hour?”

She shook her head and took his hand. “No. Stay here. It’s fine.” She smiled up at him. “Surprised?”

“Pleasantly so,” he chuckled, taking the sprig of mistletoe from her free hand, hanging it with ease. “Although I would like to request that in the future, you wait until I am around to help before getting up on questionable step ladders.”

Molly glanced up at the sprig now dangling above their heads. “If you insist,” she replied with a smile.

“I do.” He drew her in closer, his hands resting on her hips as he playfully dipping his head closer to hers until they were nose to nose. “Can’t have my fiancé breaking something so close to Christmas.”

“Especially when she’s promised you ginger nuts,” Molly teased, looping her arms around his neck.

“Especially not then,” he laughed in agreement.

“Welcome home, Sherlock,” Molly murmured.

He smiled warmly at her before meeting her lips with a tender kiss.


	16. Romance Among the Shelves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Library AU

He had become a mainstay of the library, almost as much as the books themselves. Every Thursday afternoon, Molly would see Sherlock Holmes huddled in the corner by the window, a stack of books by his side as he flipped through page after page, volume after volume.

“And what are we studying today, Mr. Holmes?” she asked congenially one day as the detective stared in frustration at the book in front of him.

“The works of Jan van Eyck. Trying to catch an art forger,” he grumbled, fixated on the page in front of him.

Molly nodded and continued reshelving, only to return a few minutes later with another stack of books for the detective.

“You may want to look through some of these,” she suggested.

“The history of paint?” he asked, examining the top book.

Molly nodded. “Most counterfeit artists are good at mimicking details within the art itself, but forget about the medium.”

He looked up at her, nearly reeling from the revelation. “…Thank you.”

“No problem. Just let me know if you need anything else,” she offered with a smile.

They’d had countless little exchanges like this. Soon these Thursday visits bled into the occasional Saturday, and then every other Monday until it seemed that Sherlock was there almost as much as she was.

“All set to check out, Sherlock?” Molly asked as he approached her desk.

“Mmhm,” he hummed with a nod, fiddling with a stack of flyers. “Rosie, uh, greatly enjoyed the books you recommended, by the way.”

“Oh I’m so glad! We’ve got another story time scheduled for next week if you want to bring her with you. There’s this new author-illustrator on the children’s lit scene that we managed to get ahold of. Should be a lot of fun for the kids,” she replied as she scanned his selection. Astronomy for kids and The World of Ash volume 7. Interesting choices…

“Sounds nice. I’ll make a note of it,” he replied distractedly.

“Alright. Here you go.” She smiled and handed him his books.

“Oh, um, this one isn’t mine,” Sherlock said, handing her back the copy of the London travel guide that was on the top of his stack.

“I know, um… that one’s from me. I bookmarked a few things in there that I thought you might like. Some fun ideas for date night with your girlfriend, that sort of thing. I can take it back if you don’t want it,” Molly replied shyly.

“No, it’s fine. Um…thanks, Molly. I’ll, uh, let you know how I liked your suggestions.” He gave her a flustered smile as he walked out.

“Please do.” Molly fought to keep her disappointment from her face until he was out the door, feeling like an idiot. She wondered why she even tried…

She was soon distracted from her pity party when she saw Sherlock standing in front of her desk once again.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he stated matter of factly.

“Oh…” Molly replied in surprise, not sure how else to respond. Thankfully he saved her the trouble.

“And seeing as Rosie is a little young for the wine and cheese scene, and John refuses to go anywhere even remotely near candlelit with me after one tabloid rumor…I was wondering if, maybe, you might like to go with me. Somewhere. On a date…” He rocked on his heels, a boyish smile stretching across his face nervously.

“Sure. I’d like that very much.” Molly grinned.

“How about tonight?” Sherlock asked, encouraged.

“Tonight would be wonderful. I get off work when the Library closes at 7. But you already knew that…” she laughed.

Sherlock chuckled, recalling the numerous times Molly had had to kick him out at closing. “I don’t suppose there are any after-hours privileges that come with dating the librarian?” he asked cheekily.

“We’ll see,” Molly replied coyly. “Play your cards right and I might be persuaded into letting you stay and read while the janitor’s empty the waste bins.”

That managed to get him to crack a genuine smile. “I’ll pick you up at 7 then, Molly.”

“Sounds great. Oh, and Sherlock?” she added catching, him before he was too far from the desk.

“Yes?”

“I thought pages 18 and 32 sounded especially appealing,” she admitted.

“I’ll make sure to have them bookmarked.” Sherlock grinned.

 

 

 


	17. I didn't sign up for this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Sherlock make a great escape

“Molly, I really need you to try and keep up right now,” Sherlock huffed as the two of them sprinted down the hallway of the hotel.

“ _I’m sorry,_ when I got dressed earlier I was thinking that we were here to expose a CFO of embezzling money from the children’s hospital, _not_ to be chased down by the _Russian mob_!” Molly shot back, sprinting as fast as she could manage in high heels.

“Well sometimes that’s just how a case goes…” Sherlock laughed breathlessly.

The two of them rounded a corner and stopped to catch their breath, Molly discarding her footwear as she did so. It would seem that they’d thrown their pursuers off their trail for the time being.

The air vent on the wall next to them popped open and Mycroft emerged looking slightly disheveled, and more than a bit put out.

“Right on time, as always,” Sherlock praised as his brother attempted to straighten his tuxedo.

Mycroft glared at Sherlock. “Just couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you?”

“And allow you to let your field skills rust while you get soft sitting behind a desk? Never!” Sherlock teased before ducking into the air vent.

Mycroft sighed and rand a hand through is rumpled hair.

“After you, Ms. Hooper,” he said politely, gesturing toward the open vent.

Molly smiled and patted his arm. “Thank you. I know this wasn’t exactly what you signed up for when you agreed to help Sherlock on this case…”

“On the contrary, Ms. Hooper, this is exactly what I signed up for. Protecting Sherlock and the ones he loves, no matter what ridiculous scrape he has gotten himself into… _that_ is the job I signed up for years ago, and it is a job I am proud to do, no matter what dry cleaning bills may come with it,” Mycroft replied matter of factly.

“You’re a good big brother.” Molly smiled and crawled into the vent after Sherlock as gracefully as she could in an evening gown.

Mycroft collected Molly’s shoes and followed her, closing the vent behind them.

“Don’t get any ideas about staring at Molly’s bum while you’re back there, Mycroft,” Sherlock warned as they crawled through the ventilation system.

Molly chuckled as she could practically hear Mycroft roll his eyes.

 


	18. You and I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosie ships her Godparents

Sherlock returned to Baker Street, another solved case under his belt, to hear the sound of cheery music drifting down the stairs. He strolled into his flat to find Rosie and Molly dancing freely about his sitting room. The sight of the Molly dancing with their two year old goddaughter warmed his heart as he took a moment to observe their fun from the doorway.

Molly noticed him first, looking up at him with a wide smile. “Welcome home, Sherlock,” she greeted brightly.

Rosie turned with an excited gasp.

“Unca Sherwock! We ah havin dance pawty!” She proclaimed excitedly as she bounced over to him as fast as her little legs could carry her. She wrapped her little fingers about his hand, enthusiastically tugging on his arm for him to join the fun.

“A dance party, you say?” he asked, scooping her up in his arms, eliciting a giggle. “Mind if I cut in?”

He playfully danced her about the room, making her golden curls bounce with the music as they made their way back to Molly. Sherlock swept Rosie slightly farther onto his hip, freeing one hand to pull Molly into their dance. Rosie laughed as Molly smooshed a kiss to her chubby cheek, tucked safely between her godparents as the three of them swayed to the music.

“How was the case?” Molly asked.

“Oh, fine I suppose. A bit cliché. The butler did it,” Sherlock replied with a chuckle. “How have things been here? Having loads of fun?”

“So much fun.” Molly smiled. “We helped Mrs. Hudson make biscuits earlier, didn’t we Rosie?”

“Uhhuh!” Rosie nodded emphatically.

“I hope you saved some for me.” Sherlock grinned. Molly gave him a wink.

“Unca Sherwock, wassin yor powcket?” Rosie asked, her hand nimbly making its way inside his jacket.

“Oh no honey! That’s not for you…” he protested, but her toddler arms were faster than he was, the small ring box wrapped tightly in her fist.

Sherlock let out a tiny sigh, his eyes closed in defeat while Molly’s went wide as she watched her goddaughter examine the object in her hand quizzically.

“Is…is that…” she breathed, glad Sherlock was also holding Rosie, lest her arms give out.

“I wemembah this!” Rosie beamed as Sherlock put her down. “I helwped Unca Sherwock pick it! Ah yew gowna give Awnt Mowwy her pwesent now?”

Sherlock smiled as he took the box from Rosie, glancing up sheepishly at Molly as he knelt before her.

“I _was_ going to wait for a more private moment to do this, but I suppose there’s no use delaying it now,” He admitted, taking Molly’s hand in his. “Molly Hooper…will you marry me?”

Molly smiled and nodded as she choked tears of joy.

“Of course,” she replied, sinking to her knees and kissing him where he knelt. “Of course I’ll marry you!”

Rosie grinned happily as she watched Sherlock place the ring they’d so painstakingly picked out together on Molly’s finger, her beloved godparents hugging each other blissfully on the floor.

“It’s abowt time!” She declared happily, causing Sherlock and Molly to laugh. The two of them shared a glance, both silently agreeing there were moments even now that Rosie sounded just like her mother.


	19. Sharing a drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> vacation/ destination deductions. Sherlock's got a crush

John ran across the beach, muttering as sand began to collect in his clunky wait-staff shoes. When Sherlock had announced they’d taken a case in the Florida Keys, playing the part of a busboy at a pirate themed hotel was not exactly what he’d had in mind.

The smell of the corpse baking in the hot sun hit him well before he reached the scene. He soon found Sherlock and Lestrade, both dressed in their floral short sleeves and khaki shorts, standing together discussing the case while Molly inspected the body, miraculously without so much as a wince. Ever the professional, that Molly Hooper. She even managed to keep the kelp of the hastily thrown fishing net covering the body from getting on her sundress.

“Sorry I’m late. I got stuck on the far side of the resort. That Brian takes his job as assistant manager far too seriously,” John apologized.

“’s fine,” Greg managed, doing his best to keep the stench out of his nose and mouth.

“This is the third one this week.” John grimaced.

“This one happened not long after the first two,” Molly informed him, brushing the sand from her knees.

“Any theories?” Greg asked Sherlock, his nose now covered with a handkerchief.

“A few. I’ll need to question a few more members of the staff, but we’re close,” Sherlock assured them.

 He took a swig from his water bottle before nonchalantly offering it to Molly. She accepted it casually, adjusting her sun hat as she drank before handing it back to him. He leaned down and whispered something to her, eliciting a giggle from her as she grabbed his for arm for support.

“Meet you back at the lobby?” she confirmed.

Sherlock nodded as he took another sip of water.

“I’ll come with you. See what I can pick up from the guests around the pool,” Greg offered, gesturing back to the resort. “Hopefully the chlorine will burn the smell out of my nose.”

Molly laughed and the two began to make their way up the beach.

John watched until they were out of ear shot before turning to his friend.

“So what was that about?” he asked curiously.

“What was what about?” Sherlock asked, finishing off the water bottle and returning the cap.

“That.” John gestured to the empty bottle. “Just now. With you and Molly. You never share your beverages. Ever.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sherlock replied dismissively, starting down the length of the beach.

“Oh really?” John laughed, following his friend. “So I guess you would have no problem offering _me_ some of your water?”

“Can’t. All out.” Sherlock smiled cheekily, waving the empty bottle for his friend to see.

“Alright, fine,” John pressed on. “Then what were you whispering about?”

“Nothing,” Sherlock huffed. “I made a joke. That’s all.”

“And you just didn’t feel like sharing it with Greg and me, is that it?”

“No,” Sherlock replied defensively. “It just wasn’t one you’d get. One of those ‘you had to be there’ sort of things. You’d have just given me that look that you always do…yeah that one!”

John shook his head and walked on. “Whispering inside jokes, sharing drinks. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were sweet on Molly.”

“Shhhh!” Sherlock hushed, glancing around.

“Holy…you are sweet on Molly!” John gasped.

“I said shhhh…” Sherlock took his friend by the shoulders, glancing behind his friend in Molly’s direction.

“She’s not going to hear us, mate. Relax,” John laughed. “I can’t believe this.”

“Just let it go,” Sherlock sighed, turning back to walk along the beach.

“Oh I most certainly will not let it go.” John grinned, following his friend. “You’ve got a crush on Molly Hooper. Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped. Given you some of my moves.”

John shimmied his shoulders at his friend, waggling his eyebrows.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “ _That._ That is why I didn’t tell you. Still processing it myself, actually… Ugh! I feel like such an idiot…”

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, sending his curls sticking up in every direction.

“Hey, hey. I was just kidding. Take it easy,” John soothed, giving his friend’s shoulder a squeeze. “Wow. You really do like her, don’t you?”

Sherlock took a deep breath. “She means everything to me, John. I don’t know what took me so long to see it. I-I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You won’t,” John assured him. “So when are you going to tell her?”

Sherlock shrugged in defeat. “I don’t know…I’ve been trying to since the fireworks but every time I try I just… can’t seem to get the words to come out of my mouth.”

“Well don’t you worry, mate! Because I’m going to help you.” John smiled, crossing his arms across his chest determinedly.

“Great,” Sherlock sighed. “Please tell me your dating advice is better than your dancing.”

“You’re just jealous of me moves,” John teased, showing off with an exaggerated shimmy.

Sherlock groaned. “This is why I never tell you anything.”

John laughed as he and Sherlock made their way to the resort dock, already concocting a romantic scheme for his friend.

 

 


	20. It's one, two, three and suddenly...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anastasia AU based on the waltz reprise of Learn To Do It from the animated Anastasia (one of my all time childhood favorites)

“Am I floating?” Molly asked, stepping gingerly as she attempted to cross the library of Lord Mycroft Holmes with a stack of books balanced on her head.

“Like a little boat,” Mycroft encouraged. “That’s right. Chin up, shoulders back. Remember, you’re the Grand Duchess. You have command of every room you walk into.”

Molly let out a skeptical laugh. “Let’s focus on learning to walk like royalty first and address my confidence issues later.”

“If worse comes to worse she can always feign a headache to avoid talking with anyone who might be suspicious. That sounds like a tactic your social elite friends would use, right Mycroft?” Sherlock chuckled from the doorway.

Molly squeaked as the books atop her head began to fall from her sudden turn towards the door.

“That’s enough floating for today,” Mycroft said with a smile, taking the books from her. Shooting his brother an annoyed glance, he added. “Sherlock, come make yourself useful. I think it is time Miss Hooper learned to waltz.”

“Waltz?” Molly gulped.

“It’s not as hard as they make it out to be,” Sherlock assured her, coming to stand beside her.

“If you say so,” Molly replied doubtfully.

A smirk broke across Sherlock’s face as he placed their arms into the proper dance position.

“And begin,” Mycroft instructed. “One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, thr—Miss Hooper…You need to let _him_ lead.”

“Right. I suppose I should have known that,” Molly laughed, blushing from embarrassment.

“Try again,” Mycroft replied, stepping back to observe. “Eyes up. Don’t look at your feet. You can trust Sherlock not to step on your toes. Good. One, two, three. One, two, three…”

Molly relaxed as she and Sherlock fell into a rhythm as he lead her about the room.

“See? Told you it was easy.” Sherlock smiled playfully.

Molly chuckled, shaking her head. “You make it easy. I’m just following your lead.”

“You’re doing fine,” he murmured reassuringly.

“You really think so?” Molly wondered.

“I do.” Sherlock cleared his throat. “That, uh, that dress suits you. I wasn’t sure when I saw it on the hanger but it looks nice on you. You should wear it sometime.”

“I _am_ wearing it,” she reminded him.

“Right. I know…I was just trying to give you a, um…” Sherlock fumbled.

“Compliment?” Molly offered.

“Yes. That,” Sherlock laughed sheepishly.

Molly smiled, shyly meeting his quicksilver eyes. “Thank you.”

 

Mycroft observed proudly from across the room as his brother glided his young protégé about the room. Molly really had blossomed under his tutelage, becoming more sure of herself as she learned to impersonate someone else. And her resemblance to the long lost duchess certainly did not hurt their chances at completing this mission successfully.

Mycroft smiled to himself as he heard her laugh bubble through the air. The two of them made a handsome pair, he had to admit. Very convincing. Perhaps a bit too convincing…

He watched as Sherlock twirled her about in his arms, seemingly at ease under her touch. Then there was the softness to her smile. The lingering eye contact.

_Oh no…_

He knew that look in their eyes. It was far more than just friendly familiarity. It was love… He was always so dismissive of sentiment, that he’d never bothered to consider it as a factor to their plan. How could he have been so clumsy? And yet he had been. He knew the signs. The damage was done…

_How will we get through this?_

 

“Sherlock?” Molly murmured. “I’m feeling a little dizzy.”

“Kind of light headed?” he replied in agreement.

She nodded.

“Probably from all the spinning,” he assessed quietly, slowing their steps until they were still. “Perhaps we should stop.”

“We have stopped,” Molly whispered dreamily.

“So we have…” he murmured. “Molly, I…”

“Well done, both of you,” Mycroft interrupted. “Miss Hooper, Anthea has a few gowns for you that will need fitting. I believe she is ready for you downstairs.”

“Oh, alright,” Molly replied, surprised. She turned to Sherlock, wondering what it was he was going to say.

Sherlock cleared his throat, dropping her hand. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Hooper,” he replied, giving her a polite nod before excusing himself.

Molly blinked in confusion and disappointment, watching him go. “You’re…you’re welcome,” she murmured.

She remembered herself only when she felt Mycroft’s hand rest on her shoulder to usher her out the door.


End file.
